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WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVBH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
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Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


r    I   Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagAe 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  peiiiculAe 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  ue  couverture  manque 

Cfioured  maps/ 

Ce.  ^ss  giographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  blacic)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
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Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avec  d'eutres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
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II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutAec 
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mais.  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  At  A  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
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une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mAthode  normale  de  f ilmage 
SO' It  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


r~1   Coloured  pages/ 


Q 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
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Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliciilAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxec 
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I — I   Pages  damaged/ 

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The  copy  filmad  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

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McMaiter  University 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
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Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
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sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
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first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
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or  illustrated  impression. 


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shall  contain  the  symbol  ^^>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
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McMaster  University 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
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conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  filmte  en  commen^ant 
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dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
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la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

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dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ^  signifie  "A  SUiVRE",  le 
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Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc..  peuvent  Atre 
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NEAR  THE  THRONE 


W.    J.    THOROLD 

A  Romantic  iVoiwl 

Illustrated  with  Photographs  taken  from  hfe 
by  G.  G.  RocKvvooD  of  Jaimes  K.  Hackett, 
Theodore  Bahcock,  Frank  Mordaunt, 
r.  B.  Bridcieland,  Corona  Riccardo, 
Mary  Mannering  ::::::::: 


I 


New  York 
MKYKR  BROS.  &   COMPANY 

Publishers 


Coi'YKKiHT,  189.^, 

By  mkvkr  p,ros.  .t  Jo. 


Photogkaphs  Copyright,  iS.^,j, 
Bv  G.  n.  ROCK  WOOD,  N.  V. 


Knteredat  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  Kn«laiid. 
All  Rights  Reserved. 


I 
I 


'     ,  '* 


IDeMcation 


TO 
THE     RKAL 

N  A  Z   I    R  A 


.1 

i 


s 


SYNOPSIS    OF    THE    NOVEL 


ScExNK  :  Cairo. 


Time:   1799. 


IN    THE   (iARI)EN    OF   HASSAN 


Four  months  elapse 

JBooI?  XTwo 

m    'jfelfS  SURGERY    OF    JJAL/AR 


Three  weeks  elapse 

:Kooft  Ubtec 

IN    FRONT    OF    THE    PALACE   OF    SALADIN 


Two  clays  elapse 

IBooF?  jfour 

IN    THE    COUNTING    ROOM    OF    HASSAN 


I 


( >ne  hour  ela])ses. 


IN    THE   CFFADEL 


CONTENTS 


BOOK    ONK 


To  Win  a  Woman 

CHAPTER 

I. — Adventurers  from  tlie  North 

II. — Sowing  a  Whirlwind 
III. — Man's  One  Shrine 
IV'. — The  Lady  and  the  (barter 

V. — Three  Magic  Words 
VI. — A  New  I'se  for  a  Star 


I'AGE 
21 


40 

5" 
s6 


FIRST    INTKRI-OOrK 


HOOK    TWO 

To  Bkkak.   a 

1 1  EAR r 

I. 

A  Sparkling  Inspiration 

•      71 

II. 

The  Life  of  a  Kiss    . 

■      85 

III. 

Paid  in  His  Own  Wine 

■     9^' 

IV. 

— Only  a  Parrot    . 

.    104 

V. 

The  Trail  of  the  Slanderer 

.    1 10 

VI. 

— The  Summer  and  a  Rose   . 

.    121 

SKCOND    INTKRI.OOUK 


Contents 


liOOK    TllRKE 
To  Gain  an  Kmi'irk 

CHAI'TKK 

I. — The  Bastille  of  Kjjypt 
II. — The  Beggar  and  the  Keys 
III. — A  Winged  Messenger 
I\'. — The  Desire  of  the  Heart. 
y. — The  Prisoner  and  tlie  Choice 
VI. — A  \'eiled  Message    . 
\' 1 1.    -The  Temptation  of  the  Purple 


PAGK 

•39 

144 

'53 
161 

170 

n? 
182 


THIRD    INTEKLOdUK 


BOOK    FOUR 

To  Save  a  Countrn 

I. 

— The  Right  to  Happiness     . 

II. 

— A  Monk  and  His  Mission  . 

III. 

—  Into  the  Trap    .... 

IV. 

— From  the  Flower  to  the  Heart     . 

V. 

—  .V  Little  Trooper 

VI. 

—  The  Seal  of  Fire 

FOURTH    INTKRI.OGL 

BOOK    FIVE 
To  Stop  a  Dkspot 


I. 

II. 
III.- 
IV.- 

V. 
VI.- 


-The  Judge  and  His  Desires 
■The  Luck  of  the  Merriest 
-A  Court  with  No  Appeal 
-Two  Practical  Dreamers 
-Sabre  Against  Scimitar 
-The  Question  of  a  King 

10 


197 
205 
215 
220 

227 

^?>7 


251 
256 
259 
264 

273 
280 


PERSONS    IN    THE    PICTUREIS 


JAMKS    K.    IIACKKTI' 

As  Captain   Marcel   Hal/ar 

IIIKX^DORK    P,ABC()CK 

As   Mil  lad 


FRANlv    MORDAUNi' 

As   Hassan 


r.   ]J.   J!RIIK;KLANn 

As  C)sman 


CORONA     RICCARDO 

As   Worda 


MAR\    MANNKRINO 

As   Na/iia 


r  I 


IBooh  One 


TO   WIN   A   WOMAN 


4 


NEAR  THE   THRONE 


CHAPTER    I 


ADVENTURERS    FROM    THE    NORTH 

A  garden  in  Cairo,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city 
where  there  are  fewer  domes  and  minarets.  The 
ground  pian  of  the  fascinating  city  which  is  the 
essence  of  all  Egypt  has  not  changed  very  greatly 
since  that  eventful  winter  just  one  hundred  years 
ago. 

Through  the  garden  a  stream,  looking  like  an 
elixir  of  soft  flame  and  fringed  richly  with  papyrus, 
winding  southerly  to  the  Nile. 

Over  this  stream  a  bridge  leading  to  a  gate  in 
the  stone  wall.  At  the  opposite  end  of  the  bridge 
three  rustic  steps;  and  the  length  of  a  couple  of 
scimitars  away  a  mound  covered  with  a  rug  at  one 
corner  of  which  a  pipe  was  smouldering.  Opposite 
the  mound  a  pedestal  upon  which  a  crimson  cush- 
ion rested  in  place  of  a  statue. 

Above  the  yellow  blossoms  of  acacias  with  their 
leafless  stalks  tilted   toward   the  sky  stately  and 

13 


Near  the  Throne 


luxuriant  palms  waving  dreamily  in  the  morning 
breeze,  making  the  place  a  foliaged  and  flowery 
paradise. 

Along  the  western  bank  of  the  old  river  of 
mysteries  a  caravan  of  camels  casting  their  last 
regretful  glances  at  the  bluish-green  waters  and 
swaying  as  they  trudged  with  their  burdens  of 
flashily  dressed  Arabians  prepared  alike  for  the 
smile  of  the  sun  or  the  sweep  of  the  burning 
simoom. 

Farther  on,  where  the  waters  murmur  as  they 
pass,  the  monuments  of  ambitious  and  defiant 
kings  in  a  sarcophagus  of  granite  seeking  an  im- 
mortality their  lives  had  failed  to  win :  the  lonely 
and  stupendous  pyramids  from  whose  lofty  sum- 
mits twenty  centuries  look  down  upon  the  myriad 
secrets  of  battle  and  romance  that  lie  hidden 
beneath  the  desert  sands — secrets  of  what  men 
have  done  to  gain  an  empire  or  a  woman. 

Past  the  gate  in  the  wall  three  water  carriers 
with  their  leathern  bottles  were  walking,  mutter- 
ing and  quarrelling  and  pushing  aside  a  stooping 
turbanncd  beggar  who  limped  along  more  slowly 
and  upon  entering  the  garden  hobbled  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  house  of  Hassan.  A  Moslem 
priest,  paying  no  attention  to  any  of  them,  hast- 
ened by  on  his  way  to  the  Mosque  of  Omar.  Then 
from  the  opposite  direction  a  group  of  dancing 
girls  came  tripi)ing  along  chattering  and  laughing 


4 


Near  the  Throne 

merrily — without  a  doubt  they  had  been  hired 
again  to  dance  at  the  feast  of  a  rich  pasha.  They 
went  often  now  to  the  Palace  of  Saladin  to  amuse 
its  lavish  Saracenic  master  and  an  inscrutable  little 
Corsican,  when  these  two  military  dissemblers  had 
tired  of  conferences  on  further  invasions  and  a 
new  vast  empire  of  the  Orient — to  which  each 
admitted  the  key  to  be  Egyi^t,  now  lost  for  good 
to  the  Sultan  of  Constantinople.  For  ages  that 
strategic  country  of  the  Pharaohs,  the  desire  of 
the  diplomats  and  monarchs  of  luirope,  has  been 
the  land  of  pleasure  and  ambition.  Its  sceptre 
has  been  battled  for  because  men  believed  the  rod 
of  gold  pointed  the  way  to  the  heart  of  a  siren. 
General  Bonaparte  wanted  to  share  it  with  Jose- 
phine, Murad  Pasha  to  lay  it  at  the  feet  of  Nazira 
— where  Captain  Balzar  was  already  kneeling  and 
offering,  not  a  crown,  but  only  himself  for  her  hand. 

When  two  soldiers  stand  near  a  throne,  and  a 
third,  who  is  a  firm  friend  of  one  and  a  secret 
enemy  of  the  other  and  all  on  account  of  a  woman 
whom  neither  has  yet  won,  stands  watching  close 
by  with  his  hand  always  on  the  hilt  of  his  swoid 
— it  means  danger.  And  the  meaning  of  danger 
that  is  written  in  no  dictionary  is  a  chance  for 
glory  and  love. 

After  the  almehs  sauntered  a  very  fat  French- 
man rejoicing  in  a  round  ruddy  face  and  extremely 
red  hair;    he    opened    the  gate   and  entered  the 

15 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


i  I 


V 


garden.  This  example  of  geniality  had  just  crossed 
the  bridge  when  a  younger  gentleman  of  the  same 
Gallic  race,  dressed  m  creamy  lace  and  glossy 
satin  as  faultlessly  as  a  courtier  bidden  to  a  func- 
tion at  the  Tuileries,  met  him. 

"  Carmier'  "   exclaimed  the  elder  of  the  two. 

"Monsieur  Taschereau !  "  answered  the  yoath, 
freshly  shaven  and  curled  and  pomatumed. 

"  Sapristi !  The  journalist  that  used  to  be,  the 
pedlar  that  is — Plutarque  Taschereau  !  "  the  pub- 
licist laughingly  responded,  as  the  troublesome 
pack  was  allowed  to  slip  from  his  shoulders  to  the 
ground  and  two  outspread  palms  invited  a  glance 
at  their  owner's  dusty  roadworn  clothes  and  tri- 
colour sash  that  indicated  his  sympathy  with  the 
revolutionists  of  France. 

"  P  p-precisely,"  acquiesced  the  blond  Gascon, 
eyeing  his  compatriot  through  the  monocle  that 
caused  him  much  trouble — a  habit  he  had  con- 
tracted with  several  other  fashions  during  a  brief 
sojourn  in  luigland. 

The  lame  beggar  emerged  from  among  the  trees. 

For  a  moment  he  arrested  the  attention  of  the  two 

Furopeans.      He  was  such  an  odd  looking  person: 

his  strangeness  being  accentuated  by  the  flowing 

costume  of   his  country,  frayed  and  e\en   ragged 

from    long   use   and    hard    travel.      Crossing   the 

bridge  slowly,  the  aged  mendicant  went  out  at  the 

gate  and  disappeared  along  the  road. 

i6 


5™ 


Near  the  Throne 


4 


;m 


^^M 


"Who  is  that?  "  asked  Taschereau. 

Orde  Hafid,  the  beggar  from  India,"  answered 
Carmier, 

"  Father  Grotesque  !  " 

"  You'll  never  be  d-dull  in  Cairo,"  Carmier  stut- 
tered out  in  the  clipped  precise  tones  affected  by 
the  aristocrats  of  the  day-to  escape  whose  fate 
the  gallant  Monsieur  Alphonse  Carmier  had  un- 
necessarily fled  from  his  native  land. 

"No?"  said  Taschereau  reflectively  and  glad 
to  be  assured  of  this  certainty  of  entertainment. 

"  IMademoiselle  Antoinette  Fleury  is  here." 

"I  don't  know  the  lady." 

"The  lady!"  Alphonse  laughed.  "You  don't 
know  Tinette?  " 

"  No,"  sighed  the  ruddy  Taschereau.      "  That  is 
a  pleasure  that  has  been  denied  me. " 
"  Ikit  you  WW- will." 

"  Without  doubt.     And  I  hope  it  may  be  soon." 
''Mademoiselle  Lu:ine  Chaumont  is  here  too." 
"I  never  heard  of  her," 

"Then   I  11  tell  you   of  some  one  of  whom  you 
ha\e  heard.  " 

"  Now  in  Cairo?  " 
"Very  much  here." 
"Who?' 

"The  confidant  of  General  l^onaparte-Captain 
Glared  Balzar.' 

"  Sapristi !   I  nuist  see  him.  " 

'7 


4>li»<i4 


Near   the   Throne 


"And  you  must  sec  the  girl  he  s  f-fallcn  in 
love  with — a  Copt." 

"  Le  Heau  Sabreur  ! "' 

"  She  is  called  the  light  of  the  Nile,  the  most 
beautiful  creature  in  Kgypt !  " 

"  Balzar,  you  say?  The  indifferent!  Tired  of 
Paris.      Sapristi !     Her  name  ?  " 

"Nazira." 

"  I  must  see  this  girl  who  has  worked  such  a 
miracle."  So  saying  Taschereau  appropriated  the 
lighted  hookah  at  the  corner  of  the  rug  covering 
the  mound  and  forthwith  began  to  smoke  But, 
either  from  habit  or  from  the  dread  of  again 
accustoming  himself  to  luxuries,  the  revolutionist 
sat  on  his  pack.  It  was  pleasant,  like  sitting  on 
an  old  friend. 

The  Gascon  watched  him  silently  and  enviously. 

"Carmier." 

"Yes.'" 

"  Have  one  with  me,  '  suggested  the  former 
scribbler,  offering  the  brown  morocco  covered  flask 
he  drew  from  his  pocket.  "  It's  the  finest  old 
Burgundy." 

"Th-thanks,  ■  answered  the  faultless  Alphonse, 
his  nostrils  and  eyes  acknowledging  the  delicate 
preliminary  whiff  that  accompanied  the  unscrew 
ing  of  the  silvered  stopper. 

"They  say  Cairo  is  getting  as  gay  as  Paris  since 
Naooleon  conquered  Eg) 


4 


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alien  in 


■T 

I 

1 


the  most 


Tired  of 


d  such  a 
riated  the 
;  covering 
ke  But, 
of  again 
'olutionist 
sitting  on 

enviously. 


4 


le  former 
cred  flask 
inest   old 

Alphonse, 
e  delicate 
unscrew 

'aris  since 


Near  the  Throne 

"W  why,  It's  empty!" 

"  What  ?     r:gypt  ?  " 

"  N  n  no — the  flask,"  Carmier  replied,  looking 
up  and  getting  a  puff  of  smoke  to  console  his  dis- 
appointment.    "Who  owns  that  pipe?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  admitted  Taschcreau  with  the 
easy  nonchalance  that  travel  begets, 

"L  1  like  to?  "  asked  his  companion,  adjusting 
his  monocle  and  assuming  an  attitude  of  impor- 
tance as  he  stroked  his  little  blond  mustache  ner- 
vously. 

"  Don't  mind,"  answered  the  unperturbed  revo- 
lutionist. 

**  The  owner  of  this  garden,  the  father  of  the 
inamorata  of  Marcel  Balzar,  a  man  who  has  but 
t  t  two  objects  in  life:  first  to  get  rich." 

"Second?"  inquired  Taschcreau,  still  unim- 
pressed and  enjoying  the  scented  tobacco. 

"To  g  get  richer.  I'm  his  t-t  trusted  ac- 
countant. The  wealthiest  merchant  on  the 
Nile— Ha.ssan." 

"What  does  he  deal  in?" 

"  Ivory — and  s  slaves — with  a  side  line  of 
r  r-rope  I  " 

"  Sapristi ! "  ejaculated  he  of  the  rubicund 
countenance,  ch'opping  the  mouthpiece  and  kick- 
ing over  the  bowl  of  the  pipe  in  his  haste.  "  Au 
revoir,"  he  continued,  pack  in  place,  and  stum- 
bling over    the    bridge    to   the   gate.      "I    don't 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


think  he's  a  proper  person  for  me  to  be  accjuamted 
with." 

"  r  p-precisely,"  Alphonse  laughed,  picking  up 
the  forgotten  flask. 

The  retreating  pedlar  disappeared  around  a  turn 
in  the  road. 

Watching  the  tricolour  sash  vanish  and  going 
himself  in  the  opposite  direction  the  immaculate 
youth  said : 

"That  was  a  clever  idea!  N-now,  Monsieur 
Plutarque  Taschereau,  I'll  see  if  I  can  get  you  a 
little  drop  of  B  b  burgundy  that  will  change  the 
colour  of  your  b-b  beard  !  "  Then  holding  up  the 
flask  he  added:  "Here's  to  the  bravest  and  best 
of  all  the  adventurers  from  the  North— I.e  Beau 
Sabreur !  May  he  defeat  the  Saracen— and  win 
the  woman  he  loves  !  " 


I 

4 
4 


I 


CHAPTER    II 


SOWINCi    A    WHIRLWIND 


I 


Monsieur  Taschereau  must  have  passed  in  his 
haste  an  ICgyptian  girl  not  far  from  the  gate  for 
in  a  moment  a  sinuous  form  en- 
tered slowly,  looking  around 
cautiously,  apprehension  in 
every  step,  fear  in  every  move- 
ment. 

"  Worda !  "  exclaimed  Lu 
cine,  coming  into  the  garden 
from  another  direction  at  the 
same  time.  The  voice  of  the 
young  governess  was  full  of  the 
astonishment  she  felt  at  seeing; 
her  former  mistress — especially 
here  so  near  the  house  of  Has- 
san. 

"I've  been  watching  for  you 
so    long,"   answered     the  mer 

chant's  unfortunate  daughter.      "  But  tell  me the 

children,  Ali  and  Halima,  are  they  well.?  " 

"Both." 

"  And  Nazira,  is  she  happy.?  " 

21 


m 


IJr- 


Near   the  Throne 


"  I  lliink  so,"  said  Mademoiselle  Chauniont. 

"I low  glad  I  am!"  the  I*>j;yptian  girl  replied, 
her  eyes  lighting  up 

Hut  Lucille  went  on:     "  N'our  father " 

*'  \o, "  W'oitla  interrupted,  "do  not  talk  of  him, 
Lucine.  lie  is  so  stern  and  severe.  He  ')rdered 
nie  to  leave  our  home,  never  to  return  ;  forbade  me 
to  speak  to  my  little  brother  or  sister — disowned 
me.      lUit  you  will  let  me  see  them,  won't  you?" 

*'  In  a  few  minutes,  Worda,  I'll  take  them  for  a 
walk  m  the  garden." 

"And  I  shall  stand  over  there  in  the  shadows. 
()  Lucine,  if  only  I  might  speak  to  them,  have  just 
one  tiny  kiss  !  " 

"  Perhaps  you  may  " 

A  doubtful  form  of  expression  this  seemed,  but 
in  the  glance  that  went  with  it  there  was  a  promise 
carried  from  the  blue  eyes  to  the  black. 

Then  Worda  whispered  softly  to  something 
beneath  her  cloak  :  "  I^e  still  my  little  pet." 

"What  a  pretty  pigeon!"    Lucine  put   m  ad 
miringly,  watching  the  bird  fluttering. 

"Yes,   an    Antwerp,"    answered   Worda  as  she 
ran  lighter  of  heart  along  the  bank  of  the  stream 
"  An  officer  from  the  T^rench  fort  at  Balbeis  gave 
it  me." 

She  disappeared  just  in  time,  for  the  next  mo- 
ment Hassan  entered  from  the  direction  of  the 
house. 

22 


4 

4 


4 

I 


Near   the  Throne 


»' 


f^ave 


1 


i 


'*  I  thou^lU  I  saw  some  one  speaking  with  you, 
Lucine,"  he  said,  watch iii.L;-  licr  eyes  that  they 
mii^ht  tell  some  tale. 

The  yoiin<;  IVoveni^al  did  not  reply. 

"  There  is  a  woman,"  he  continued,  in  a  manner 
colder   than   hei    native   mistral,  *'  whose   name   I 
would    not     mention. 
She  used  to    he    my 
daughter — 1     fancied 
she    was    near.     An 
swer  me :     were   )ou 
speaking  with  her?  " 

"No." 

*'  Then  w  i  t  h 
whom  ?  " 

"Tinette,"  the  girl 
fibbed  easily  and 
whitely,  looking  at 
him  squarely. 

He  could  not  con 
tradict     her,     having 
seen    nothing.       Be- 
sides  the  fair-haired  governess  spoke  with  such 
honesty    of    tone.       Before    he   had   time   for  an- 
other question,  Halima's  voice  sounded  from   the 
house : 

"  Lucine — Lucine  !  " 

"  The  children       See   what   they   want,"   com- 
manded Hassan. 

23 


¥' 


1 


H 


H 


t      l\ 


Near  the  Throne 

Mademoiselle  obeyed  immediately,  preceding 
him. 

His  impatient  gesture  and  hesitating  step  be- 
trayed the  disturbing  suspicions  of  his  mind.  He 
resolved  to  wait — and  watch. 

But  he  too  was  observed ;  and  by  two  men  of 
his  own  country.  They  had  been  walking  slowly 
up  the  road  and  now  opening  the  gate  to  the  garden 
came  over  the  bridge — Osman  and  Murad,  the 
Pasha  of  Egypt  and  the  old  IV^y,  who  was  his 
closest  friend.  r\)r  some  time  Hassan  had  felt 
that  some  dread  thing  was  hanging  darkly  over 
him.     It  was  the  shadow  of  these  two  P^gyptians. 

Osman  went  on  with  their  conversation  : 

**  Your  mother " 

**  Don't  remind  me  of  it,"  interrupted  the  Pasha. 
"I  know;  she  was  a  P^renchwoman.  That's  my 
misfortune — and  I  hate  the  whole  race  of  them 
for  it." 

"Who  was  she?"  the  old  man  asked,  peering 
up  at  his  master.  Though  in  truth,  he  stooped 
but  little  considering  the  sixty-one  years  of  his 
age — at  least  two  score  of  them  years  of  intrigue 
and  turmoil. 

Close  observers  would  have  noted  the  fact  that 
in  certain  lights  the  eyes  of  the  Pasha  had  in  them 
a  shade  of  blue  and  that  he  did  not  possess  quite 
the  aquiline  i^.ose  of  the  normal  Arabian. 

"Who  was  she.^  "  the  Bey  asked  again. 

34 


Near  the  Throne 


his 


"A  slave  of  my  father's,"  answered  Murad, 
"  who  disappeared  when  I  was  a  few  months 
old — captured." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  her  ?  " 

"No." 

"Could  you  recognize  her?" 

"  Yes.  My  father  had  two  signet  rings — ex- 
actly alike.  I  have  one,"  he  said  showing  it  to 
his  companion,  "  she  has  the  other.  She  has  also 
the  scar  of  a  lash  on  her  left  arm." 

"And  you.?" 

"  I  .'^  "  Murad  exclaimed  tossing  back  his  head, 
his  black  eyes  flashing.  "  I  was  nursed  by  an 
Arabian.  So  you  see  this  is  my  own  country. 
My  father  was  an  Egyptian,  the  milk  that  nour 
ished  me  was  Egyptian — .ny  veins  are  full  of  the 
blood  of  Egypt!  But  this,"  he  sneered,  con- 
temptuously hitting  with  his  nai^.s  and  the  back 
of  his  hand  a  five-rayed  decoration — "  the  Grand 
Cross  of  the  Eegion  of  Honour!" 

"  Of  Erance." 

"  Erom  Napoleon  !  " 

"  He  gave  it  to  you  with  great  ceremony." 

"  Conferred  it  upon  me  !     Well,  it  serves." 

"  Yes  —  its  purpose." 

"  My  purpose — to  pull  the  camel's  hair  over  the 
eyes  of  the  artilleryman  of  Corsica. " 

Bonaparte  pursued  a  special  policy  with  regard 
to  this  powerful  Pasha  and  his  adherents.     Anx- 

25 


Near  the  Throne 


I  1 


f 


ious  to  avoid  their  enmity  and  obtain  their  co- 
operation for  the  furtherance  of  his  vast  designs 
for  an  eastern  empire  he  resolved  to  soothe  their 
prejudices  and  gratify  their  vanity.  Though 
leaving  none  of  its  sovereign  rights  unexercised, 
the  French  general  did  not  yet  assume  a  title  of 
conquest.  He  continued  to  admit  Murad  to  an 
ostensible  share  of  authority  with  himself,  and  by 
the  intervention  of  a  divan  affected  to  govern  like 
the  Grand  Signior  of  Constantinople.  Bonaparte 
further  endeavoured  to  persuade  the  Moslems  that 
he  pertained  ^o  their  religion  and  was  an  envoy  of 
Allah  sent  to  earth  to  confirm  and  complete  the 
doctrines  of  the  Koran  and  the  mission  of  Ma- 
homet. But  though  the  Mufti  on  entering  the 
sepulchral  chamber  in  the  pyramid  of  Cheops  an- 
nounced his  belief  in  the  conversion  of  Napoleon, 
yet  neither  he  nor  the  other  followers  of  the 
Prophet  even  desired  this  proselytism  to  the  faith 
of  Islam.  They  were  too  shrewd — those  Saracens. 
Murad  had  already  read  in  a  copy  of  Le  Moniteur 
sent  him  by  Sir  Sidney  Smith  that  the  Abbe  de 
Pradt  had  distinguished  Napoleon  by  the  term  of 
Jupiter  Scapin.  But  circumstances  obliged  the 
Pasha  for  the  present  to  adopt  the  same  policy  as 
the  victor  and  feign  an  attachment  which  he  would 
soon  scornfully  throw  off.  Accordingly  the  diplo- 
matic Egyptian  lent  himself  to  advance  the  aims  and 

ambitions  of  the  Man  of   Destiny  and  assisted  in 

26 


i 


Near  the  Throne 

deriving  his  name  from  Arabian  words  meaning 
the  Lion  of  the  Desert.  It  was,  however,  the 
rolling  fire  of  musketry  by  which  Bonaparte 
achieved  his  glorious  success  at  the  Battle  of  the 
Pyramids  that  procured  for  him  the  Oriental  ap- 
pellation of  Sultan  Kebir— King  of  Fire. 

"  Osman,"  resumed  Murad,  "  I  wish  our  customs 
would  permit  me  to  ask  Hassan  for  his  daughter 

in  marriage." 

''  We  cannot  alter  the  laws  of  our  ancestors," 
was  the  laconic  reply  of  the  Bey  to  this  embryo 
heresy,  that  came  unconsciously,  perhaps,  from 
the    European    taint    that    shamed   the    haughty 

Murad. 

*' I  know,"  he  replied.  "Custom  is  stronger 
than  the  Koran.  A  man  Uiust  have  a  relative  or 
trusted  friend  to  do  this  for  him." 

The  elder  of  the  two  conspirators  drew  back  a 
step.     Frowning,  he  asked:  "Am  I  not " 

But  Murad  would  not  let  him  finish  the  sen- 
tence. "You  are,  Osman,"  he  hastened  to  add. 
"  You  are  indeed  my  friend." 

"  Murad,  there  is  one  thing  we  must  do,"  said 
the  Iky,  becoming  practical  in  a  moment. 

"  What  is  that .?  " 

They  drew  nearer  together. 

"  Poison  Hassan's  mind  against  Marcel  Balzar." 

"  Can  you  do  it  ? 

True    to    his    Machiavellian    principles,   Murad 

27 


Near  the  Throne 


!l! 


I 


Stood  ever  ready  to  use  falsehoods  as  rungs  of  a 
ladder  to  his  ends  and  others  as  cat's-paws,  lu'ery 
countiy  has  its  lagos.  And  his  star  had  said  he 
was  near  the  throne. 

"We  will  do  it  together,"  was  the  politic  re- 
sponse of  the  astrol- 


oger 


"That's  better," 
the  Pasha  assented, 
quickly  perceiving 
the  inexpediency  of 
pressing  for.  advan- 


tage. 


on     the 
reputa- 


Osman    sug- 


"  Begin 
Captain's 
tion,' 
gested  tentatively. 

Murad  at  once 
recognized  the  wis- 
dom and  possibili- 
ties of  such  a 
*'  l^ndermine  it,"  he  added. 
"  The  very  thing." 
"  Start  a  whisper." 

Methods  are  the  same  for  all  centuries  and  con- 
tinents. 

"  No  more  ?  "   asked  the  old  man. 
"  No  more   is   necessary.      Scandal  has   wings, 
l^alzar's  gay  career  in    I'aris,  his    doings   in  this 


course. 


Near  the  Throne 


this 


city — and  to  all  the  stories  add  a  little.  I  hope 
you  may  fiixl  Hassan  at  home — and  win  his  con- 
sent.    Speak  to  the  old  man  wisely." 

"I  am  not  an  astrologer  for  nothing,"  replied 
the  i^ey  w^ith  pregnant  emphasis  and  stroking  his 
long  white  beard. 

"  Remember  that  Hassan  and  his  family  are 
Copts— Christians  of  the  oldest  type.  Therefore 
avoid  any  question  of  religion." 

"  I  shall— carefully  !  " 

"  Mention  neither  the  warrior  of  Mecca  nor  the 
Carpenter  of  Nazareth.  As  you  speak  observe 
the  merchant  m  the  man  and  show  deference  to 
the  father." 

'*  Trust  me  for  that." 

*'Tell  Hassan  of  my  wealth,"  he  continued 
walking  toward  the  bridge  and  with  a  sweep  of  his 
swarthy  arm  pointing  along  the  distant  river,  "tell 
him  of  the  gold  I  have  hidden  in  the  treasure 
pyramids  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile— the  silver, 
the  ivory,  the  precious  stones  that  glisten  in  my 
palace." 

'•I  shall." 

Murad  was  now  standing  at  the  centre  of  the 
bridge,  picturesque  and  fascinating— a  son  of  the 
desert,  he  was  a  savage  endowed  with  a  great   in 
tellect.      And   he   had  the  air    imperial    as   if   his 
swaddling  clothes  had  been  of  purple. 

Osman  felt  the  sp*.>ll  of  the  Pasha's  personality. 

29 


mmmmmm 


M 


t 


k-(     s 


Near   the   Throne 

"  Te)l  him,"  Murad  went  on,  his  eyes  aflash  with 
his  own  eloquence  and  fixed  on  the  Iky,  "  tell  him 
of  its  splendour:  the  spacious  corridors  and  vast 
banquet  hall,  with  floors  of  marble  and  pillars  of 

granite — the     walls      bedecked 

with  trophies  of  the  Pharaohs — 

,  all   lighted  by  the  soft  glow  of 

candelabra.       Remind    him    of 
IJ  the  luxuries   of   my   palace :    a 

\^^  hundred     slaves     that      Nazira 

''^  might  command,  chambers  hung 

with  richest  silks — the  colours, 
music,  perfumed  fountains." 
"Yes." 

"  Mention  too  my  princely 
blood,"  he  continued,  drawing 
his  damascened  scimitar  from  its 
scabbard.  "  Tell  him  of  my 
past  career  as  a  ruler  and  a  sol- 
dier— of  how  as  General  of  the 
fearless  Mamelukes,  mounted  on  our  swift  Ara- 
bians, I  so  often  led  them  to  battle  and  to  victory. 
Paint  my  future,  for  I  shall  yet  crush  this  young 
Napoleon,  defy  the  Sultan  as  before — win  the 
crown,  swing  the  sceptre,  and  on  the  throne  of 
h^gypt  reign  as  king." 

They  went  out :  Murad  at  the  gate,  Osman  to 
meet  Hassan  and  steal  away  the  good  name  of 
Captain  Marcel  Balzar. 

30 


CHAPTER    III 


MAN    S    OXI-:    SUKIXK 


I 


l^efore  the  Iky  reached  the  house,  however,  lie 
met  Hassan  emerging  from  the  palms. 

"  Ah,  Osman !  "  said  the  merchant  greeting 
him. 

**  Hassan,"  the  old  intriguer  returned  with  much 
suavity  of  tone  and  manner,  "  my  dear  friend." 

**  You  are  well,  I  hope.^  " 

"  Mxcellent,  and  just  wishing  to  see  you." 

"Indeed.^" 

"  On  a  most  important  subject  that  T  think  may 
he  of  great  interest  to  yourself  and  family — as  it 
is  to  my  noble  master." 

"Then,"  replied  Hassan,  forgetful  of  the  fact 
that  a  fox  brings  forth  nothing  but  a  little  fox, 
"  let  us  go  in  where  we  may  talk  it  over  quietly 
and  at  our  ease." 

**  Thank  you,"  replied  Osman  very  obsequi- 
ously, stepping  aside  that  his  host  might  go  be- 
fore. 

Together  they  entered  the  house,  the  merchant 
and  the  astrologer,  that  the  fate  cf  a  daughter 
might  be  settled  between  piastres  and  planets.     It 

31 


Near  the  Throne 


'  I 


ti! 

"a  1 


is  not  difficult  to  draw  the  path  of  another's  des- 
tiny, but  to  make  that  other  walk  therein  has  been 
known  to  be  as  easy  as  flying,  especially  when 
the  object  of  solicitation  is  of  the  sex  that  keeps 
all  the  world  greatly  wondering.  For  sometimes 
the  voice  of  a  man  may  be  pleasanterto  a  girl  than 
the  clink  of  coins,  and  the  heart  of  a  lover  more 
magnetic  than  the  gleam  of  a  meteor. 

Music  attracted  Osman  as  he  entered  the  house 
with  Hassan.  Pausing  and  looking  back  over  his 
shoulder,  he  caught  a  momentary  glimpse  of  the 
subject  of  their  conversation  and  the  object  of  all 
the  plans  of  Murad,  to  attain  which  no  scheme 
was  too  daring,  no  chance  too  desperate.  Invol- 
untarily he  paused — she  was  such  a  glowing  incar- 
nation of  the  world's  desire. 

A  boat  resembling  less  the  usual  cangia  of  the 
Nile  than  a  caique  of  the  l^osphorus,  but  much 
shorter  and  a  trifle  wider,  was  coming  slowly  and 
gracefully  down  the  stream  running  through  the 
garden.  The  splendid  palms  cast  a  grateful  shade 
upon  the  waters.  Tamarinds  and  acacias  made 
the  foliage  thicker.  The  white  lotus  flowers  and 
a  thousand  magnolias  in  bloom  shook  out  their 
perfume  as  the  stars  shake  out  their  light.  Two 
stalwart  Nubians  were  propelling  the  craft;  three 
maids,  one  of  them  a  Ikxlouin,  the  others  l^Vench, 
were  playing  on  lutes  a  dreamy  Arabian  melody. 
Beneath  a  canopy  of  black  and  orange,  supported 

32 


<-^*v 


Near  the  Throne 


by  quaint  Moorisli  spears  from  which  waved  flags 
beariiij^  the  emblem  of  I'^gypt,  on  a  profusion  of 
fancy  colored  cushions  embroidered  with  mystic 
arabesques,  lay  Nazira.  The  clinging  gauzy  dress 
in  which  she  was  clothed  and  the  wide  sash  which 
girdled  her  hips,  together  emphasized  the  sensuous 
outlines  of  her  form,  lithe  and  svelte;  the  deli- 
cately moulded  and  tapering  arms  were  bare,  the 
left  shoulder  was  visible  through  the  thinnest  silken 
drapery  to  which  was  pinned  a  large  violet  lily. 
She  wore  no  rings,  but  the  bright  gold  of  her  brace- 
lets, the  bandeau  with  dangling  sequins  on  her 
forehead,  and  the  glistening  jewels  of  the  necklace 
on  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  gently  with  each 
breath,  contrasted  well  with  her  skin's  dark  hue. 
The  features  of  the  girl  had  that  exquisite  Gre- 
cian contom- which  distinguishes  the  more  cultured 
of  the  Copts.  Full  of  warm  blood,  her  lips  vvere 
scarlet;  full  of  spirit,  her  eyes  were  of  a  languor- 
ous brown.  There  was  a  witchery  in  the  curve  of 
her  raven  brows  and  the  droop  of  her  swarthy  lids. 
And  the  girl's  countenance  was  so  harmoniously 
framed  with  her  lustrous  hair,  black  as  a  night  on 
the  desert ;  for  its  sheen  had  that  strange  purple 
tint  which  Nature  sometimes  gives  to  a  child  of 
Egypt.  ( )n  her  shoulder  it  rested,  too  abundant  to 
be  all  coiled  above  the  olive  brow  that  only  lacked  a 
crown.  IIow  enchanting  she  looked — beautiful, 
resplendent,  divine — yet  a  very  earthly  goddess! 

3S 


■y 
J 


Near   the  Throne 

As  the  boat  nearcd  the  bridge  Marcel  Balzar, 
habited  in  the  green  uniform  with  white  lacings 
and  cords  of  a  captain  in  the  light  horse  artillery, 
his  regiment  being  the  Twentieth  Chasseurs,  his 


k 


only  decoration  the  plain  dull  order  of  the  Iron 
Crown,  by  his  side  his  greatest  friend  and  most 
prized  gift — the  sabre  Napoleon  wore  at  the  battle 
of  Aboukir — quite  unseen  by  those  afloat  on  the 
stream  entered  the  garden  at  the  gate.  Filled 
with  admiration  of  the  picture  presented  to  his 
view  he  could  not  restrain  the  exclamation: 

34 


Near   the  Throne 

"  The  lily  uf  the  Orient!" 

Tinette,  one  of  the  maids,  laid  down  her  lute  to 
tune  a  violin  Nazira  had  handed  her — accidentally 
a  string  broke. 

"  Oh  !  "  slipped  from  her  mistress's  lips.  *'  And 
it's  Mai  eel's  violin  !     Who  will  help  me  fix  it.''  " 

"'  T  will,"  its  owner  answered,  crossing  the  bridge. 

"You  here,  Monsieur  Balzar.^"  Nazira  re- 
sponded, quickly  recovering  from  her  surprise  at 
seeing  him.     "  See  what  I've  done." 

"My  favourite,"  he  said  regretfully,  taking  the 
instrument  and  assisting  her  out  of  the  boat. 

"What  will  you  say  to  me?  "  she  asked,  as  the 
craft  went  on. 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered. 

"All   the   morning.'*       That   wouldn't    be   very 
pleasant,"  she  admitted,  handing  him  the  violin. 
"You  left  it  here  yesterday." 

"Did  I.''"  he  asked,  scarcely  thinking  of  what 
he  was  saying. 

"You  are  getting  very  absent  minded,"  she 
suggested. 

"Am  I.'*"  he  answered  in  th'i  same  faraway 
manner. 

"  Yes,"  she  added,  toying  with  the  flower  which 
she  had  removed  from  its  fastening,  "so  they 
say. 

Hie  last  three  words,  always  a  synonym  for 
possible  omnipotence,  seemed  to  recall  him. 

35 


i 


1  wish  I  hiid  sucli  a  lily,  '  he  said. 


I 


Near   the  Throne 

"  T  wish  I  had  such  a  lily,"  he  said. 

"  Vou?" 

"  Ves — for  my  own  " 

"Why?"  she  asked,  leaning  upon  the  cushion 
on  the  pedestal. 

"  It  is  so  heautiful,"  he  responded,  as  if  the 
logic  of  I'arthenia  should  be  convincuig  to  a  girl 
who  united  the  Massilians  beauty  with  her  own 
Egyptian.  Hut  when  Nazira  glanced  at  him, 
l^alzar  looked  at  the  lily,  and  when  she  regarded 
the  lily  he  watched  her. 

"  What  would  you  do  with  it  ?  " 
"  Care  for  it,  be  its  protector,"  Marcel  answered, 
his  adoring  gaze  following  her  every  movement,  as 

he  felt  the  sweet  allurement  of  her  melting  eyes 

"all  a  lover  does  for  his  idol." 

"  Have  you  the  intention  to  start  a  new  religion, 
Monsieur  Balzar.;*  "  she  asked,  giving  him  the  lily. 
"  The  adoration  of  flowers  ?  " 

"  No,  not  a  new  one — but  that  old  religion  which 
is  always  as  young  as  human  hearts.  For  men 
worship  at  only  one  shrine." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Nazira  changing  the 
subject  as  the  wind  changes  its  course  or  a  but- 
terfly its  blossom,  "I'm  just  longing  for  some 
music." 

"  Shall  we  go  to  the  kiosk.?  "   he  proposed, 
"  Yes,"  she  agreed,  sauntering  off  with  him  and 
looking  at  the  violin. 

37 


Near   the   Throne 

"Then,"    Captain   ]^alzar  said,    "there    is    that 
secret  I  want  to  tell  you." 

"  I  like  to  hear  secrets,"  Xazira  confessed. 

"Why?" 

Men  do  ask  such  foolish  questions  sometimes. 


!#*•. 


"Why?"  siie  replied.  "  A  mans  query.  Ik- 
cause.  " 

"Because — a  woman's  answer." 

"  Because,"  she  acknowledged,  "  I  am  a  woman." 
And  her  smiie  seemed  to  say  that  fact  should  he 
sufficient  explanation  of  any  phenomenon.  "  You 
can  tell  them,"  she  resumed;  "can  you  keep 
them;  " 

3^ 


111 


Near   the  Throne 

"I  think,"  he  ventured,  "a  woman  likes  a  man 
who  can  keep  a  secret. " 

''Yes,"  the  enchanting  Egyptian  assented, 
smiling  at  him  and  putting  her  hands  behind 
her  head,  which  she  tossed  back  as  they  disap- 
peared together  among  the  palms  ''  l^ut  a  woman 
loves  a  man  who  can  provide  her  with  a  secret  to 
keep." 


CHAPTER    IV 


|!       > 


THE    I.ADV    AND    THE    (iAKTKR 

Mademoiselle  Chaumont  came  tripping  into  the 
garden  with  Ali  and  llalima,  as  full  of  life  as  the 
two  children. 

"  I  can  run  faster  than  you,  Ali, "  said  the  girl 
to  her  brother. 

**  No  you  can't,"  answered  Lucine  for  the  child. 

"Yes  I  can!"  his  sister  challenged.  "Let's 
race." 

"  Ready  ?  "   said  the  governess. 

"  One,  two,  three — go  !  " 

Scampering  past  the  bridge  they  disappeared 
just  as  Tinette  came  after  them  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  house  and  Taschereau  knocked  at  the 


gate. 


"  Its  a  fine  day,"  he  volunteered,  as  though  the 
maid  were  in  need  of  information, 

"For    crocodiles,"     she    replied,    shaking    her 

Titian   curls,   audacious   as  a  gilded  youth   on  a 

boulevard.      There  were  stories  current  in  parts  of 

Paris  about  Tinette  Meury  which  she  never  took 

the  trouble  to  contradict,  that  until  she  was  nearly 

si.xteen  she  masqueraded  through  the  Latin  quarter 

40 


Near  the  Throne 

dressed  as  a  boy-and  it  was  even  said  that  she 
had  aspirations  to  continue  doing  so,  had  not  the 
development  of  her  pretty  figure  made  the  disguise 
impossible. 

The  effect  which  this  reply  had  on  the  doughtv 
inheritor  of  the  Greek  biographer's  name  was  as 
droll  as  that  which  music  has  on  the  hair  of  a 

Virtuoso. 

"Yes,"  he  modestly  assented,  making  a  mental 
note  of  the  sympathy  between  his  locks  and  the 
tresses  of  which  she  might  be  pardoned  for  bein^ 
proud.  ^ 

"What  have  you?  "  queried  the  ci-devant  dan- 

seuse. 

"  Everything  they  have  in  the  great  Capital  " 
replied  the  pedlar,  putting  down  his  pack. 

"I^:xcept  beauty,"  the  Parisienne  remarked  to 
herself.     Then  aloud  she  said  :  ''  Let  me  see  " 

"The  very  thing,"  Taschereau  announced  with 
confidence,  opening  one  of  the  numerous  packages 
the.  bnndle  contained  and  handing  her  some  neatly 
fokicJ  papers. 

''Poems!"   she  exclaimed. 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle!"  the  itinerant  merchant 
ejaculated.      "  You  are  so " 

"Put  are  you  quite  certain,"  broke  in  the  arch 
Antoinette,  ^  they're  fit  for  me  to  read?  You 
know  I've  only  been  married  once." 

"Guaranteed  magnificent,"  he  assured  her, 

41 


Near  the  Throne 


"Shakespeare's?"  she  inquired  without  look- 
ing up. 

"No." 

"Voltaire's?" 

"No.      I  wrote  them  myself" 

"Indeed?  What  beautiful  ribbons!"  the  dan- 
seuse  piped  up,  admiring  the  pink  ornamentation. 

"  Read  it,"  urged  Taschereau,  straightening  out 
the  manuscript  she  was  holding. 

"  What's  It  called  ?  "  asked  Mademoiselle  Fleury. 

"  Look,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  line. 

She  read  the  captioo  :   "  Ode  to  Posterity. " 

"Grand  title,  isn't  it?"  he  declared,  enthusinjr 
as  authors  are  reputed  to  do  like  mothers  over 
their  own  babies 

"But,"  Tinctte  responded,  tossing  back  her 
curly  head,  "it  will  never  reach  its  destination." 

"Eh.^" 

"I'll  take  the  ribbon,"  she  decided  tearing  it 
off  brusquely  and  i)utting  it  around  her  neck, 
then  throwing  the  manuscript  into  the  bag,  "you 
take  the  poem." 

Taschereau  the  rhymer  looked  mortified,  but 
Taschereau  the  pedlar  was  not  a  man  to  let  litera- 
ture interfere  with  business. 

"Haven't  you  anything  for  girls  ?  Something 
to  wear?"  his  so  far  unprofitable  customer  in- 
quired. 

"  Yes,"  Plutarque  returned  handing  her  a  small 

42 


Near  the  Throne 


box  as  he  went  on  carelessly  looking  through  some 
of  the  other  packages  and  remarking,  "  poets  are 
born,  not  made." 

Opening  the  box  she  of  the  Titian  hair  ejacu- 
lated :  "It's  paint." 

Still  searching  through  the  pack,  the  touring 
merchant  ran  on:  "But  beauties  are  made,  not 
born." 

"  If  this  is  all  you  have.?  "  Mademoiselle  Fleury 
wanted  to  know,  putting  it  in  her  pocket,  "you 
might  as  well " 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  her  countryman  said  eagerly; 
then  he  quietly  added  to  himself  :  "  I'll  suit  her  this 
time."  For  he  had  surmised  that  her  disposition 
was  likely  to  be  as  fiery  as  her  hair  was  auburn. 

"Well,  be  quick." 

"  There,"  he  declared,  giving  her  a  hand  mirror; 
"there's  something  for  girls— for  men,  too— and 
ladies." 

"How  pretty!"  the  Parisienne  marvelled,  look- 
mg  at  the  frame  and  not  listening  to  what  he  was 
saying, 

"How   lovely!"    he   acquiesced,   regarding   her 

image  in  the  glass. 

"What.?     The  mirror.?" 

"  No  !     The  picture  m  the  mirror," 

"  Have  you  anything  else  for  girls  ?  " 

"  Isn't  it  sweet.?  "   he  inquired,  with  an  affirma 

tiv^e  inflection  and  handini^  her  a  rinir 

43 


iWilH    iiilfalfll 


on. 


let 


Near   the   Throne 

Yes,"  she  agreed  losing  no  time   in  putting  it 

And  tiiat?  "    Ik-  i)rocccdcd,  ;^dving  her  a  brace- 


Slie  tried  impatiently  but  could  not  unfasten  the 
clasj). 

"  Let  me  help  you?"   he  proposed,  suiting  the 
action  to  (he  word. 

"What   else    have   you?"   she   deigned   to  ask, 
holding  lier  hand  in  front  of  the  glass. 

"  I'm  sure  you'll  like  these,"  he  answered,  pass- 
ing her  a  pair  of  earrings. 

l)Ut    the   maid   was  unable  to  get  the  thin  wire 
of  the  circlels  through  the  piercing  in  cither  lobe. 

"Let    me    help   you    j)ut    them   on,"    I'lutarque 
suggested,  again  coming  at  once  to  her  assistance. 

"  ( )h,  they  make  such  t;..ngs  in  l\aris  !  "    Madem 
oiselle  sighed,  ecstatically  admiring  herself  in  the 
glass. 

"  And  they  do   such  things!  "    Monsieur  Tasch 
ereau  added. 

"  What  ?  " 

**That  is,"  he  said  apologetically,  "  they  know 
what  girls  like."  And  at  the  same  time  he  ual 
lantlv  handed  her  a  silver  belt.  "  Hewitchinu". 
isn't  it  ?  "  he  remarUcnl.  ".Shall  T  helj)  you  put 
it  on?"  And  he  did  so — taking  rather  a  long 
time. 

"  How  nice'  "   Tinette  exclaimed. 

4i 


i 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

"The  sensation?  "  asked  Plutarqiie,  giving  her 
a  squeeze. 

"No- -the  belt'" 

"That   was   made  for  a   princess,"    fibbed    the 
wearer  of  the  tricolour  sash,  showing  her  a  coro 
net— then    adding    beneath  his    breath,    "it    was 
made  for  three  francs." 

"  How  does  it  go?  "  she  piped  up,  puzzled  as  to 
the  most  appropriate  way  to  wear  the  insignia. 

"Let  me  help  you  put  it  on,"  he  responded, 
correctly  assuming  that  she  wished  his  aid. 

"Just  sweet.  Oh!"  she  gurgled  with  almost 
childish  delight. 

"  In  fact  a  couple  of  ohs  !  "  ventured  Taschereau, 
]  icturing  the  profit  on  this  easy  sale  of  most  of 
his  stock  of  alleged  jewelry. 

"I  never  knew,"  she  continued,  "that  jewels 
suited  me  so  well." 

"  ^^li — oh  '  "  he  warned  her  laughing. 
"And  haven't  you  anything  else  for  girls?  " 
"Let  me  think,"  he  reflected,  falling  easily  into 
quite  a  philosophic  pose — his  weight  resting  on  the 
left  leg,  the  right  crossing  it ;  forefinger  and  thumb 
wandering  over  the  stubble  on  his  chin  till  they 
touched  his  underlip;  his  eyes  looking  seriously 
at  his  somewhat  roseate  nose.  "Ah,  here  they 
are'"  he  concluded,  stooping  down  and  offering 
her  a  pair  of  trinkets  composed  of  yellow  buckles 
and  blue  elastics. 

45 


I 


ll 


Near  the  Throne 


"I  always  like  blue." 
"Me  too." 
'SXnclgold." 
"Me  too." 

"But  what  are  these.'"  Antoinette  demanded, 
openin<^^  them  out. 

He  did  not  enlighten  her. 

"  Garters !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Shall  I  help  you  put  them  on .' "  he  volun- 
teered. 

Fortunately— though  Taschereau  thought  other- 
wise— Lucine  came  up  at  the  moment.  Tinette 
quickly  put  the  garters  behind  her  back. 

"Oh,  how  beautiful'  "  burst  out  the  Provencal, 
noticing  the  jewelry  with  which  the  maid  was 
arrayed.      "  Where  did  you  get  them  ?  " 

"  From  that  gentleman." 

Taschereau  felt  that  he  had  won  indeed. 
"  Gentleman  now,"  he  murmured  to  himself. 
Then  noticing  Tinette  tripping  off  he  called: 
"  Wait !     You  haven't  settled  for  those  yet'  " 

"  You  say  that  to  me  ?  "  she  retorted  with  mock 
indignation, 

"  Yes,"  he  assented. 

"To  Mademoiselle  Antoinette  Fleury.'  " 

"Yes." 

"Then  Fll  pay  you,"  she  declared,  "in  the  coin 
of  the  realm." 
"Which.?" 

46 


f 


!il: 


!      I 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

"  Mine  !  "  she  replied  with  an  emphatic  feminine 
pose. 

"Whafs  that?" 

"  The  cafe  chantant— of  the  Latin  quarter— of 
gay  Paris !  " 

"  Then  a  kiss  !  "  he  proposed.  As  an  old  news- 
paper man  he  should  have  known  better.  If  you 
want  anything  from  a  woman,  do  without  it— or 
take  it.      He  who  asks  is  lost 

With  marvellous  grace  and  abandon  she  showed 
a  knowledge  of  the  light  fantastic  that  many  a 
man  would  consider  ample  compensation  for 
a  flagon  of  sapphires— and  whirled  off  to  the 
house. 

"Yes,  really  you  can,"  said  Lucine  reassur- 
ingly. 

"But  I  won't." 

"Oh,  do!  And  me  too !  '  she  urged.  "Have 
you  any  more }  " 

"Lots." 

"To  fit  mc.^" 

His  eyes  wandered  down  and  up  her  figure. 

Mademoiselle  Chaumont  thought  this  a  strange 
proceeding  and  took  a  step  back, 

"Just  your  size,"  he  decided 

"Won't  it  be  nice.^"  She  could  not  be  ex- 
pected to  perceive  his  meaning 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  agreed,  with  a  second's  hesitation. 

"Let  me  see  them." 

47 


Near  the  Throne 


•:  \. 


if! 


"  Not  here.  Over  there — let  me  see  them," 
he  importuned  with  a  different  emphasis. 

"  Eh  ?  Do  you  think  they'll  suit  me  as  well  as 
Tinette?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  And  will  you  help  me  put  them  on  ?  " 

"Yes— oh,  yes!" 

]^ut  Lucine  dismissed  the  gallant  Plutarque  at 
the  gate — the  children  were  coming.  Monsieur 
Taschereau  went  down  the  road,  lighter  of  pack 
and  heavier  of  heart — crestfallen. 

Halima  and  Ali  came  running  to  Lucine. 

''Didn't  you  see  Nazira.-*"  It  was  llalima  that 
spoke. 

The  Provencal  answered  very  doubtfully  :  "  No — 
no. 

"  O  Lucine  !  "  went  on  the  child,  *'  and  she  looked 
so 

"And  Marcel,"  interrupted  their  governess, 
"Captain  l^alzar,  didn't  he " 

"  He  looked  that  way  too,"  replied  Halima,  cjuick 
of  perception  and  trying  to  imitate  a  mixture  of 
sheepishness  and  happiness,  which  is  usually  the 
resultant  appearance  of  a  certain  state  of  soul  to 
third  persons. 

"  But  Worda.'*  "   asked  Lucine. 

"  She  was  so  sad,"  Halima  responded.      "  She 

just  came  up  and  kissed  u.s,  Ali  and  me,  and  ran 

away  again." 

48 


I 


•  I 


Near  the  Throne 

"  Don't  teli  that  to  your  lather,"  cautioned  the 
^^rl.  "Donoc  forget:  don't  say  anything  about 
U  orda  to  your  father.     Conio. " 

And  she  led  them  toward  the  house,  passing 
( )sman  and  I  lassan  among  the  trees.  As  Lucine 
ulio  always,  like  most  metropolitan  people,  attended 
strictly  to  her  own  affairs  and  never  meddled  with 
nor  mquircdinto  those  of  others,  saw  the  Itey  with 
her  master  she  coidd  not  avoid  the  reflection  that 
.t  was  for  no  good  to  Nazira  and  wondered  what 
base  proposition  this  man  had  made  on  behalf  of 
the  subtle  iMiirad. 


I« 


C'lIAlTIlK    \' 


'i'MKKI':    MAdIC    WOKDS 


"  And  what  I  have  told  you  in  regard  to  Jialzar  ?  " 
Osman  was  saying  interrogatively. 

"Is  in  strict  confidence,"  answered  Hassan. 
**  Besides  I  am  not  at  all  willinLC  that  Nazira 
should  marry  a  European." 

**  Perhaps,"  went  on  the  l^ey,  listening  to  the 
music  of  a  violin  float' '..g  through  the  palms, 
*'  l)erhaps  he  is  with  her  now — in  the  kiosk." 

'*  Murad  is  worthy  of  my  daughter's  hand,"  was 
the  careful  reply.  "  I  shall  consider  all  you  have 
said,  Osman.  And  )our  master  shall  know  my 
answer  before  many  days  have  passed." 

"  I  thank  you,  Hassan,"  the  Moslem  said  bow- 
ing profoundly.      **  r^arewell." 

**  Farewell, "  the  Copt  responded  returning  the 
salutation.  Then  to  himself  with  brows  knit  as 
he  returnee,  to  the  house  he  meditated :  "  There 
are  reasons  why  l^alzar  should  be  forbidden.  Is 
it  true  y 

Osman  watched  the  merchant  from  the  bridge. 
Seeing  him  disappear  he  drew  out  a  folded  paper, 
which  he  had  stolen  from  a  table  in  the  merchant's 

5° 


Near  the   Throne 


nuittennij-  ' 

''Hassan   such  a  letter  you  should  keep  locked 
n,.urvaul.      I   wonder  .f  vve  can  n.ake  usH^ 
this-^     I  11  take  It  to  Murad.  " 

The  astrologer  went   quickly   out   the  ,ate    in 
the    direction    of    his    mas- 
ter's    residence,  which    was 
now   in  the  I'alace  of  Sala 
din. 

"  f  am  so  fond  of  music," 
said  Nazira  comino-  ^^ith 
Marcel  from  the  kiosk. 
"Aren't  you,  Monsieur 
Balzar?" 

It  IS  strange  how  two 
people  will  talk  of  anything 
that  is  farthest  from  their 
minds  at  the  moment  when 
both  are  thinking  of  what 
is  nearest. 

*'  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"That   wassucha,„cny„altzweplayea." 
\cry   -A  Drcan,  of  Happiness" 

I.ucne  came  up  at  the  moment  with  a  tray  of 
refreshments.  ■' 

"Thank  yo„,    Lndne,"   saul  Xazira.       "J[ere 
on  this  mound."  ' 

The  ]>rove„,jal  obeyed  and  returned  to  the  house 

5' 


M^t-- 


Near  the  Throne 


ml 


H 


lf;5 


"That  sherbet  looks  tempting,"  renMrked  Bal- 
zar. 

"  You  must  have  some.      I  prefer  coffee." 

"  Will  you  permit  me  ?  " 

S^  he  poured  the  coffee  for  Nazira,  putting  four 
or  five  heaped  teaspoonfuls  of  sugar  into  the  over 
flowing  cup;  forgetful  of  everything  as  he  looked 
into  those  fathomless  eyes — instead  of  attending 
to  what  he  w^is  doing.  She,  seeing  the  fun  of  his 
imminent  en  barrassment,  added  to  the  mischief 
by  tearing  off  and  droppnig  into  the  sugar  the 
petals  of  the  lily — so  that  in  a  minute  he  had  a 
queer  mixture  to  account  for. 

"I'm  sure  that  will  be  delicious,"  laughed 
Nazira,  standing  the  spoon  wht.TC  the  liquid  ought 
to  be. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  !  " 

But  the  deed  was  done.  She  enjoyed  his  pre- 
dicament; then  relieved  him  by  saying : 

"  I  shall  punish  you  by  drinking  some  of  your 
sherbet." 

He  handed  her  a  cup — delicious  as  they  know 
how  to  make  that  beverage  only  m  the  East. 

Leaning  forward.  Marcel  said  : 

"  Nazira." 

"  How  you  repeat  my  name,"  she  answered,  "as 
if  it  were  a  remark  by  itself." 

"  There  is  something  you  must  have  no- 
ticed." 

52 


Near  the  Throne 

"Yes,"    she   responded,  questioningly   sippinfr 
the  sherbet.      "  Where  ?  " 
"  Have  you?  " 

"  I  have  noticed  a  great  many  things." 

"  But  I  mean  one.  " 

"Which?" 

"  Something  I  have  tried  to  conceal  from  you," 
he  persisted,  growing  so  earnest  that  any  one  would 
see  his  meaning-except  a  girl  who  had  decided 
to  be  blind. 

"  Then  how  could  T  have  noticed  it  ?  " 

"Only  tried  to." 

"You?       From    me?       Why,    I    have    always 
thought  you  very  frank— and  honest." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  but  I  haven't  been." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  have  been  keeping  something  back  from 
you-something  I  should  have  told  you  months 
ago,"  he  said,  looking  intensely  at  her  and  askino- 
with  his  gray  eyes  if  she  did  not  understand  "I 
love  you,  Nazira;  I  love  you!"  he  continued, 
watching  for  the  slightest  indication  of  favour. 
But  there  was  none. 

"Tell  me,"  he  pleaded,  ''may  I-may  I  hope 
that  you — love  me  ?  " 

^'1 1  cannot  give  you  the  answer  you  would  wish." 
"Do  not  say  that." 
"But  I  have  said  it." 

"After  a  time  you  might  grow  a  little  fond  of 

53 


Near  the  Throne 


Ml 


4  t     I 


me.     Grant  me  a  wo  d,  a  look,  Nazira,  to  tell  me 
that  by  waiting " 

"  1  cannot,"  she  replied  without  giving  him  the 
opportunity  to  finish. 

He  knew  that  the  maid  who  smiles  is  half  taken, 
but  of  this  truth  the  Copt  seemed  an  alluring  con- 
tradiction. 

"  T  would  be  patient,"  he  prayed  her,  scanning 
the  ground  hopelessly  and  listening  to  the  music 
from  the  boat  coming  nearer. 

Glancing    shyly    at    him,   the    young    Egyptian 
slowly  and  timidly  took  his  hand,      l^efore  his  sur 
prise  had  time  to  crystallize  into  a  word  he  heard 
her  saying: 

''  You  may  do  more  than  hope.  They  say  I  have 
no  heart,  but  I  have — and  it's  all  for  you !  " 

She  was  in  his  arms  now.  The  strains  of  the 
lutes  floating  through  the  palms,  softer  than  the 
songs  of  birds,  came  to  them  as  sweet  messengers. 

"Fond  of  you.!*"  she  added,  "I  love  you. 
Marcel !  " 

Nazira  placed  all  her  faith  in  the  passion  that  is 
the  root  of  all  the  good  and  evil  in  the  world;  and 
she  was  not  afraid  nor  ashamed  to  avow  it.  Tne 
woman  who  does  not  believe  in  love  is  either  a 
eunuch  or  a  courtesan. 

'*  My  precious  !  "  he  responded,  in  the  ecstasy 
of  hearing  from  her  those  three  magic  words,  and 
kissing  he  and  slipping  a  ring  on  her  finger. 

54 


i 


Near  the  Throne 

**  I  so  love  you!  " 
*'  Nazira !  " 

At  that  same  moment  the  boat  passed  the  land- 
ing and  Liicine  entered  the  garden 

"Your  father,"  she  said  to  Nazira,  "wishes  to 
speak  with  you." 

"I  shan't  be  long,"  said  Nazira  to  l^alzar,  her 
voice  full  of  new  happiness. 

And  he  answered  : 

'Til  wait  for  you  in  the  kiosk." 

As  they  went  their  separate  ways,  two  Egyptians 
appeared  at  the  gate— and  in  their  scowl  there  was 
unscrupulous  and  fearless  malignity. 


T 


% 


I   i 


CI  I A  ITER    VI 


A    NEW    USE    FOR    A    STAR 


f  ! 


jl 


"  The  course  of  custom  is  too  slow,"  Murad  com- 
plained as  he  entered  the  garden  with  his  com- 
panion. Then,  as  if  seeing  a  possible  way  out  of 
the  difficulty,  he  added:  "But  Naziia's  family 
does  not  adhere  to  all  our  laws. " 

"  She  will  be  back  in  a  few  moments,"  continued 
Osman,  observing  Hassan  through  the  foliage 
talking  to  his  daughter  on  the  steps  of  the  house. 

"I'm  going  to  speak  to  her  myself,"  the  Pasha 
resolved  crossing  the  bridge.  '*  With  such  a  let- 
ter," he  continued,  withdrawing  it  from  beneath 
the  folds  of  his  robe  and  giving  the  Bey  an  approv- 
ing glance,  "this  may  be  the  time." 

"  She  is  coming,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Watch  for  a  signal,"  suggested  Murid  confi- 
dentially tapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  "  I  may 
need  you." 

"  I  shall  be  waiting,"  was  the  answer  of  the  wily 
astrologer,  with  a  gesture  indicating  a  secluded 
spot  behind  a  cluster  of  palms  near  the  gate. 

"  Take  care,"  said  his  master.  "  The  lover  may 
return. " 

56 


I 


I 


Near    the  Throne 


J6 


i- 


Osman  sought  his  hiding  place. 

Seeing  Murad,  who  greeted  her  with  a  saluta- 
tion  that  had  all  the  respect  of  an  Oriental  salaam 
united  with  the  polish  of  a  courtier  of  the  first 
lunpire,  Nazira  bowed  and  would  have  passed  on, 
being  eager  to  reach  the  kiosk,  had  not  Murad 
stopped  her. 

"Nazira,"  the  Pasha  said,  "would  you  like  to 
help  your  father?  " 

"Help  my  father?"  the  girl  answered  in  sur- 
prise, unenlightened  by  the  faintest  glimmer  of 
his  meaning. 

"  You  may  be  able  to, "  he  went  on  with  much 
insinuation. 

"  How  ?  "   she  asked. 

"  It  is  always  dangerous  to  hate  a  conqueror," 
he  said  very  suavely.  Then  with  a  searching 
directness  of  glance  and  assertion  he  added: 
"  Your  father  hates  Bonaparte. " 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"His  money  is  all  invested  in  English  securi- 
les. 

"  That  is  no  proof. " 

"But  this  is,"  he  argued,  producing  the  letter 
and  holding  it  just  near  enough  for  the  daughter 
to  recognize  her  father's  writing  and  to  read  a  few 
of  the  incriminating  words. 

Naturally  the  girl  tried  to  take  it. 

"Oh,    no,"    Murad    replied,    putting    her    hand 

57 


Near  the  Throne 


■i  ii. 


away.      "It's  a   letter     you  recognize  the    sienna 
ture?" 

"  (live  it  to  nie,"  she  said. 

'*To    Admiral    Nelson,"    he    pursued,    "of    the 

Ikitish   fiect   at   Alexandria — i;ivin<i:  the   plans  of 


If^ 


! 


I     I 
I!      '     I 

I      f.   i 


Napoleon's  fortifications  and  the  future  movements 
of  his  army." 

"  Of  what  use  is  the  letter  to  you.?  '  she  ques- 
tioned. 

"  None,"  he  admitted. 

"Then- " 

"But — to    you.?       Nazira,   that    scrap  of  paper 

5« 


Near   the   Throne 

placed  in  the  hands  of  Bonaparte — and  your  father 
would  be  at  once  court- martialled  and  shot." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  do  it  ?  " 

'*  No — because  I  want  his  daughter  for  my  wife. 
I   would  have  no  other,    but   her  alone.      Npzira, 


li 


I'm  mad  for  you — I  love  you!  OmiQ  with  me  to 
the  garden — and  I'll  give  you  the  letter.      Come  !  " 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  courtesan.?"  she  de- 
manded. 

'*No!"  he  replied.  "But  I  think  you  would 
be  willing  to  save  your  father." 

"At    such    a    cost.?"     she    retorted,    becoming 


more  indignant. 


59 


y    [ 


Near  the  Throne 


1   ! 


lil 


U     ' 


'I 


"Is  marriage  with  me  so  great  a  sacrifice? 
Then  this  letter  goes  to  Bonaparte!"  the  Saracen 
announced,  walking  rapidly  toward  the  gate  with- 
out a  look  behind. 

But  as  he  crossed  the  bridge  Nazira  called : 

"Murad!  Murad !  " 

The  Pasha  glanced  over  his  shoulder  to  listen. 

••I'll  buy  the  letter!"  she  offered.  "I'll  get 
you  any  price." 

"My  price.?" 

"  My  father  has  mo  ley  !  " 

"Money.!*"  he  rejoined  turning  on  her  with 
laughing  scorn. 

"  Yes !  " 

"  Of  what  use  is  that  to  me  ?     I  have  millions  !  " 

The  Pasha  hastened  as  far  as  the  gate,  knowing 
neither  mercy  nor  pity.  The  girl  in  despair  for 
her  father  ran  after  him  and  cried : 

"  Murad  !     I'll  do  it !  " 

He  met  her  with  a  look  of  victory  mingled  with 
suspicion.  Together  they  retraced  their  steps, 
her  hand  in  his — she  loathing  his  touch,  yet  smil 
ing  upon  him  out  of  her  tempting  eyes  with  the 
long  lashes  like  rays  of  darkness  Such  eyes, 
when  the  time  comes,  can  be  treacherous. 

"To    hold    you     in    my    arms,"    said     Murad. 
"  You'll  keep  your  word.^*  " 

"  I  always  do." 

"  It's   not    gold   I    want,"    he   resumed    in    low 

60 


I 


J 


get 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


carnal  tones,  as  they  sat  down  upon  the  mound 
I  where  the  rug  lay  spread—'*  it's  love— such  love 

as  you  can  give." 

Osman  was  watching. 

Then  Nazira,  fully  conscious  of  the  stake  she 
was  playing  for  and   the  risk  she  was  running, 


low 


twined  her  soft  warm  arms  about  Murad's  neck  and 
breathing  all  her  passion  into  the  words,  answer^^d  : 

"  I'll  love  you  !  " 

She  was  so  sensuous,  this  ravishing  creature, 
Murad  gave  her  the  letter. 

Instantly  the  girl's  whole  manner  changed. 

The  Pasha  frowned,  but  said  nothing. 

6i 


Near   the  Throne 


■!i 


Hi 


I 


"  I'll  take  it  to  my  father — to  destroy,"  she  said, 
laying  the  paper  safely  at  her  side  remote  from 
Murad.  And  the  enchanting  tones  had  left  her 
voice. 

**  Not  yet,"  he  urged. 

"  Let  me  go  now,"  she  begged  and  ])romised 
reassuringly,  "  I'll  return  to  you." 

Murad  signalled  to  Osman.  The  old  astrologer 
crept  slyly  toward  the  letter. 

r>ut  Halzar,  with  that  weakness  characteristic  of 
lovers,  had  grown  imj^atient,  and  returning  to  look 
for  Nazira,  strolled  into  this  part  of  the  garden 
just  in  time  to  see  what  was  happening  His  im 
mediate  thought  was  to  rush  forward,  strike  Murad, 
and  denounce  the  traitress  who  was  so  false  to  her 
vows.  But  the  action  of  Osman  suggested  a 
second  theory — which  was  confirmed  on  observing 
the  Bey  purloin  the  small  document ,  so  that  the 
captain's  enmity  was  all  for  the  Pasha  when  he 
heard  him,  with  a  gesture  toward  the  more  secluded 
portion  of  the  enclosure  where  there  was  much 
shadow  and  thick  foliage,  say  to  his  own  be- 
trothed : 

"  Come  further  into  the  garden  first." 

"  Afterward,"  she  demurred. 

Osman,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Nazira,  in  order 
to  be  sure  she  did  not  see  him,  was  slinking  back- 
ward. This  was  l^alzar's  opportunity  to  step  to 
the  bridge  and  intercept  the  Ik^y.      Me  was  always 


1 


4 


f<    I 


Near  the  Throne 


ing 


ready — therefore  took  the  risk  Osman  backe*-'' 
right  into  Balzar.  This  case  was  to  be  won  now 
not  by  wit,  but  by  force,  Marcel  grasped  the  old 
man's  wrists  with  a  grip  of  iron,  quickly  and  si 
lently  wrested  the  letter  from  him,  then  left  him 
to  recover  from  his  astonishment  sprawling  on  the 
bridge,  while  he  himself  walked  forward — and 
waited 

"  \o,  no,"  Murad  importuned  —  "you  have  filled 
my  blood  with  passion." 

"  I'll  just  give  it,"  she  pleaded.     Then  missing 
the  paper  she  burst  out :  "  The  letter ! 

"  I  gave  it  to  you." 

*'  And  I  put  it  there.     Where  is  it.^*  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  For  once   you   told  the   truth ! "    said   l>al/.ar 
with  quiet  intensity,  and  stepping  between  them 
"  Mere  it  is." 

"  Then  you  stole  it !  "   replied  Murad, 

"Did   I?"    replied    the   Captain,   giving    it    to 
Nazira  and  checking  her  impulse  to  tear  the  com- 
promising thing  into  fragments.     "  For  what  pur 
pose.?" 

"We  shall  see." 

Nazira  opened  out  the  letter.      Balzar  saw  the 
inkless  sheet. 

"  It's  a  blank  !  "   he  exclaimed. 

And  the  girl  added  contemptuously  : 

"  The  trick  is " 

63 


Neiir  the  Throne 

*'  Mine ! "  interrupted  Murad  with  an  air  of 
triumph. 

Both  looked  at  him  in  surprise  and  anger. 

"The  letter  is  here!"  the  Tasha  gloried,  hold- 
ing it  up. 

Instantly  Captain  Halzar's  sabre  leaped  from  its 


I 


\\: 


h  I 


IS 


scabbard.  In  any  question  that  was  to  be  decided 
by  a  fair  and  open  fight  he  was  the  last  man  to 
hesitate. 

But  in  the  same  second  Murad,  pointing  proudly 
to  the  star  of  the  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour 
on  his  breast,  retorted  in  warning: 

64 


Near  the  Throne 

"  And  I  serve  Napoleon." 

Balzar,  forced  by  his  knovvledi^^e  of  this  fact  to 
refrain  from  the  attack,  replied  simply  as  he  tight- 
ened his  hold  on  the  hilt  of  his  sabre: 

"  You  viper! " 

]kit  this  brought  to  an  issue  a  feud  that  could 
end  only  with  the  death  of  one  of  them.  Halzar 
determined  that  it  should  not  be  the  soldier  of 
France.  Miirad  resolved  that  it  should  not  be  the 
prince  of  the  Mamelukes  of  Egypt. 

It  had  begun  in  terrible  earnest,  the  mortal 
struggle  between  these  two  enemies — for  the 
crown — and  for  a  woman. 


r  I 


\i 


in 


FIRST    INTERLOGUK 

FfJUR    MONTHS    HAVE    ELAPSED 

Love  is  the  only  good  in  the  world. 
Henceforth  be  loved  as  heart  can  love, 
Or  brain  devise,  or  hand  approve. 

— R(JBERT  Browning 

With  time  all  lovers  are  prodigals.  Yet  to 
them  lightning  does  not  pass  more  quickly  Four 
months  glided  by  swiftly,  Yet  in  that  brief  period 
how  much  progress  may  be  made  by  conspirators 
for  empire  or  by  victims  of  Cupid!  Ambition 
was  afoot  in  Cairo — and  throughout  the  realm. 
But  even  that  relentless  tyrant,  to  which  the 
greatest  give  homage  as  the  one  supreme  god  of 
life,  is  worshipped  only  that  the  prize  cast  to  the 
kneelinf,  devotee  may  help  that  poor  toik  r  to  win 
some  woman's  love.  I^'or  al)  man  struggles  for, 
he  struggles  but  to  lay  it  at  her  feet — hoping  she 
may  smile  with  eyes  and  lips  and  that  her  arms 
may  be  soft  to  him.  Murad,  subtle,  diplomatic, 
knowing  well  that  the  people  are  the  final  arbiters 
on  all  questions  of  power,  was  assiduously  becom- 
ing more  popular  every  day  and  was  nov/  awaiting 

a  suitable  opportunity   to   make  a   dash   for    the 

66 


thrf 
of  1 
pasi 
the^ 
tinii 
ma^ 
war 


i 


-  Near  the  Throne 


throne.  But  he  was  ever  under  the  watchful  eye 
of  Balzar.  And  he  and  Nazira — the  hours  they 
passed,  Marcel  and  the  Egyptian — the  moments 
they  lived — earthly  enough  to  be  divine!  Some 
times  hand  to  hand,  lip  to  lip,  they  felt  the  sweet 
magic  of  the  warm  touch  of  flesh  to  flesh — and 
wandered  far  along  the  paths  of  paradise. 


i 


y    i 


i' 


5Ji 


>i, 


i  'i 


i   I 


!l^ 


'^ 


Booh  XLvoo 


TO   BREAK  A   HEART 


v<\v 


1    ?, 


» 


1? 


# 


CHAPTER    I 


A    SPARKLING    INSPIRATION 

The  surgery  of  Marcel  Balzar,  a  French  house 
with  Parisian  furnishings— not  far  down  the  road 
from  the  garden  of  Hassan. 

On  two  walls  several  shelves  with  many  bottles 
and  small  boxes  ranged  in  rows. 

In  the  third  wall  a  very  large  open  window  led 
up  to  by  five  steps.  The  white  lace  curtains  dec- 
orated with  eagles  and  the  walls  with  scarabees. 
Here  and  there  a  wreath  of  laurel  encircling  the 
letter  N. 

Rather  scant  foliage  growing  in  a  narrow  garden 
outside.  Beyond  this  the  road,  along  which  an  oc- 
casional dromedary  swayed. 

The  window  commanding  a  fine  view  of  Cairo : 
the  citadel  with  its  splendid  dome,  the  Eastern 
houses  with  their  flat  roofs,  the  mosques  with  their 
towering  minarets. 

Just  to  the  right  of  a  door  leading  to  the  rest  of 
the  house  a  steep  and  narrow  staircase  on  the  wall 
running  up  to  the  private  apartments  of  the  phy- 
sician.     It  had  a  low  and  very  ornamental  balus- 

71 


1 1 


!:f 


Near  the  Throne 

trade  that  looked  as  though  it  might  have  been 
stolen  from  some  old  Italian  palace  and  brought 
here  to  adorn  the  temporary  residence  of  an  officer 
in  the  army  of  the  Great  Devastator 

Across  the  room  a  small  open  desk  with  a  bullet 
hole  through  it.  Close  to  the  chair  behind  the 
desk  three  muskets  with  their  bright  bayonets 
fixed  and  stacked  as  in  a  camp.  And  leaning 
against  them  a  fourth  without  the  weapon  of  the 
charge. 

In  a  cage  on  a  plain  oak  table  standing  in  a 
corner  between  the  window  and  the  staircase,  a 
parrot,  arranging  its  feathers  with  much  contempla- 
tion, remarked : 

•'  Polly  !   Pretty  Polly  !  " 

Madame  l^alzar  entered  the  room  at  the  moment 
carrying  on  a  tray  her  son's  lunch,  plain  but  dainty. 

"  Marcel  is  too  tired,'  she  said  half  aloud  to 
herself,  with  motherly  solicitude,  "  after  coming 
from  the  hospital." 

Then  the  pet  of  the  family  in  the  cage  cocked 
its  head  to  look  at  her. 

"  Polly  wants  a  cracker.!*  "   she  asked, 

"  P'oo-wit !  "   came  the  answer  in  a  whistle. 

So  she  robbed  her  son  of  a  trifle — and  anoth- 
er— to  reward  the  green  and  hungry  little  despot. 

"  Foo-wit !  "  it  whistled  its  thanks  as  she  left 
the  room.      "  Foo-wit — foo-wit !  " 

Just  then   Monsieur   Carmier  entered   the  sur- 

72 


i 


i* 


Near  the  Throne 


I 


s 
S 


gery  with  the  blustering  Phitarque  Taschereau. 
The  pedlar  had  lately  become  the  private  secre- 
tary of  Balzar.  He  was  better  dressed,  but  re- 
joiced in  the  same  patriotic  sash  and  the  same 
chronic  thirst.  As  usual  he  was  chaperoned  by  a 
black  bottle,  which  was  now  empty.  His  em- 
ployer ostensibly  censured  this  weakness  of  the 
journalist,  but  for  the  sake  of  old  acquaintance 
really  connived  at  it.  Just  at  present  Plutarque 
felt  exhilarated— that  was  all— but  eager:  the  full 
effects  had  not  yet  appeared  from  his  appreciative 
draughts  of  Burgundy.  Both  paused  a  moment 
and  listened. 

From  a  mosque  across  the  way  came  the  call  of 
a  Moslem  priest  and  the  weird  chanting  of  der- 
vishes to  the  tap  of  primitive  drums,  accompanied 
by  sweet  piping : 

"  Allah,  allah,  allah,  ai !  " 

"  The  c-c-call  to  prayer,"  said  Cannier.    "  Noon." 

*'  Didn't  know  it  was  so  late." 

"G-g-going?" 

''I  thirst,"  said  the  genial  Taschereau,  sitting 
down  to  the  table,  unfolding  the  napkin  and 
throwing  it  across  his  knee. 

"Was  there  ever  a  time  when  you  didn't.?" 
questioned  the  more  abstemious  Alphonse,  look- 
ing very  quizzically  through  his  monocle. 

"Never!"  was  the  prompt  admission.  'My 
thirst's  my  best  friend  -  never  deserts  me." 

73 


Near  the  Throne 


i^ 


r  ,1 

'■I 


(( 


<( 


"  What  a  c-c-clever  idea !  " 

"  I  think  his  mother  might  give  Monsieur  le 
Docteur  a  better  lunch.  It's  a  charity  to  eat 
it  up." 

"Why?"  asked  the  Gascon,  expecting  to  see 
the  sash  expand,  so  rapidly  did  the  ruddy  Tascher- 
eau  devour  the  fowl. 

"  This  chicken  is  thirteen  years  old." 
Unlucky.     H-h-h-how  can  you  tell  ?  " 
By  the  teeth." 

"  Ch-ch-chickens  don't  have  teeth. " 

"  No,  but  I  have." 

"  You've  been  reading  Sophocles  again  !  " 

"  Sapristi !  "  exclaimed  Plutarque,  ignoring  this 
accusation  of  plagiarism  as  every  good  journalist 
should.  "  I  wouldn't  offer  that  to  Murad,  "  com- 
plained the  philosophic  revolutionist  tossing  the 
wish-bone  out  of  the  window. 

"Indeed.''"   smiled  Alphonse. 

"  I  wouldn't  throw  it  to  a  poodle." 

"  But  you  did,"  laughed  the  faultless  blond, 
looking  down  the  road.     "There  g-goes  Osman. " 

"Carmier." 

"Yes." 

"  Why  is  this  rooster  like  a  riddle  ?  " 

"  R-r-rooster,  r-r-riddle  —  r-riddle — r-r-rooster. 
Why  is  that  r-rooster  like  a  riddle?  "  he  struggled 
out,  the  words  apparently  being  as  difficult  as  the 
enigma,  Taschereau  accompanying  and  exaggerat- 

74 


Near  the  Throne 

in^  the  stutterer's  grimaces,  when  Carmier  finally 
admitted:  "I  d-d-don't  know." 

"Because,"  Plutarque  replied,  wrapping  the  re- 
mainder in  the  napkin  and  pushing  it  from  him, 
"I  give  it  up." 

"  P-p-precisely, "  agreed  Alphonse,  making  for 
the  door  in  disgust. 

"  Nobody  knows  how  dry  I  am— my  throat's  like 
—the  Sahara !  "  wailed  he  of  the  terrible  yearning. 
"Foo-wit!"    whistled   the   parrot   as    Carmier 
slammed  the  door. 

"  Hello,     Poll ! "    said     Taschereau    sauntering 
around  the  surgery  and  scanning  eagerly  all  that 
came  within  his  range  of  vision.     "  Bottles,  bottles 
everywhere— and    not  a  drop  to   drink.     I   have 
such  a  thirst,   it's   just   burning  me  up,"  he  con- 
fessed to  the  bird,  at  the  same  time  taking  down 
a  decanter.      ''Water!     Sapristi !  "     Next  a  wine 
bottle    with    a    preliminary   glance    at   the   label: 
"Soothing  syrup!"     Then  another,   first  remov- 
ing the  cork  and  smelling  the  contents:   "More 
of  the  stuff.      I  wonder  if   Balzar   takes  me    for 
twins — or  a  baby  farm.?"      Looking  over  a  row 
of  bottles,  one  seemed  promising:     "Ah,  here's 
something!"  he  ejaculated  anticipating  the  fluid 
he  revelled  in  and  removing  the  cork :    "  Castor 
oil!     Worse!" 

"  Polly!  "   said  the  parrot,  as  if  twitting  him  on 
his  disappointment. 

75 


Hi 


■   '5, 


i' 

f. 


Near   the   Throne 

lUit  Plutarque  Taschercau,  like  tliosc  explorers 
who  search  for  the  North  I'ole,  was  not  to  be 
discouraged. 

"  I  wish — I  wnsh  T  could  get  some  of  those  nice 
mixtures  they  have  in  Paris,"  he  sighed  taking 
down  another  bottle  and  reading  the  label  :  "  Paris 
Green.  Sapristi !  I'm  not  a  cabbage  head — even 
if  I  wasn't  born  in  Ireland.  Since  l^alzar  made 
me  his  private  secretary  I've  never  been  in  good 
spirits — or  they've  never  been  in  me.  Tic's  too 
strict,"  he  ran  on  sniffing  something  in  the  air  as 
a  camel  sniffs  an  oasis.  "  Where  is  it.-*  "  he  ques- 
tioned, following  his  nose  to  a  h(  .dc  of  Benedic- 
tine at  the  other  side  of  the  room  and  clasping  it 
with  joy.  "This  needs  no  label,"  he  declared, 
drinking  again  and  again.  "  Needs  nothing — not 
even  a  cork." 

"  Wine  for  a  king  I  "  chimed  in  the  wise  parrot, 
evidently  having  heard  the  phrase  often. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  blissful  imbibition,  Plu- 
tarque  blurted  out  the  discovery  to  himself . 
"  Nearly  empty  !  " 

"  Another !  "   struck  in  the  observer  in  the  cage. 

The  tippler  filled  up  the  bottle  with  water  from 
the  despised  decanter. 

The  parrot  joined  his  whistle  to  Taschereau's 
yell  just  as  Carmier  returned  and  remarked: 

"  T-t-two  of  them." 

"  Yesh,"  acquiesced  Taschereau. 

76 


Near  the  Throne 


"Do  1  interrupt?"  asked  the  faultless  Al- 
l)honso  stroking  his  waxed  mustache. 

*'  Not  an  interrupt,"  answered  the  owner  of  the 
tricolour  sash  .swinging  the  ends.  The  Hurgundy 
was  now  uniting  forces  with  the  Ik'nedictine,  and 
the  two  liquids  were  e\idently  having  a  hanquet 
of  their  own  in  the  interior  of  the  r>enchmaii. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  accountant. 

**  Ah !  "  repeated  Taschereau,  with  a  smack  of 
the  lips  as  he  swallowed  another  drink. 

"  What  are  you  up  to,  T-t-taschereau  }  " 

"S  that  Carmier,  old  fellow?  It'sh  warm  day. 
Have  some,"  he  said  handing  the  hottle.  "  And 
thish  dry  wine,"  he  ran  on  not  knowing  by  this 
time  just  exactly  what  it  was. 

"And  this,"  answered  Carmier,  returning  it, 
"  is  a  d-d-dry  b-bottle." 

"  The  cat's-paw^ !  "  muttered  Taschereau  point- 
ing at  Osman  passing  the  window,  as  he  himself 
stumbled  toward  the  door. 

"Is  Monsieur  ]^alzar  at  home?"  asked  the  old 
trickster  putting  his  head  in. 

"Not  preshent,"  answered  the  surgeon's  private 
secretary,  his  tongue  a  bit  thick. 

"Are  you   sure?"   queried   the   Ik^y  suspectin 
the  statement. 

"  J^y  tli<;  beard  of  the  Prophet !  "  swore  Tas- 
chereau. 

"  Is  he  expected  soon?  " 

77 


<r 


Near  the  Throne 


■  i 


I 


I.   : 


"Any  moment,"  was  the  hiccoughed  answer. 

"Then  I  shall  call  again  this  morning." 

"  May  the  blessing  of  Allah  always  follow  you," 
replied  Taschereau — then,  when  the  door  was  shut 
behind  the  astrologer,  he  added,  "and  never  over- 
take you." 

"Amen,"  responded  Alphonse,  fervently. 

"  What'sh  on  thish  label,  Carmier.?"  asked  the 
elder  man,  changing  the  subject  and  reverting  to 
the  question  that  he  had  found  puzzling. 

"  L-latin,"  answered  the  younger,  following  the 
custodian  of  the  coveted  bottle  up  the  steps  to 
the  window. 

Taschereau  replied  with  a  look  of  disgust: 
"What's  it  mean?" 

"  I  th-th-thought  you  were  a  scholar." 

"Me  scholar.?"  he  roared  hiccoughing  and 
laughing.  "  They  tried  me  with  their  books. 
But  learning  isn't  in  my  line.  They  taught  me 
Latin — tried  to.  Sapristi !  It  was  no  go.  All 
the  Latin  I  construe  is:  amo,  I  love.  Have 
shome  more,"  he  implored,  stretching  the  bottle 
out,  but  returning  it  to  his  own  lips. 

Monsieur  Carmier  had  dropped  his  monocle 
and  was  staring  out  into  the  street. 

"  Whatsh  matter.-*  "  asked  the  jolly  convivialist 
rolling  down  the  steps.  They  never  seem  to  hurt 
themselves. 

"  Mademoiselle  Tinette  Fleury  !  "   answered  Al- 

7« 


I 


yi 


Near  the  Throne 


and 
)oks. 
me 
All 
[ave 
)ttle 

locle 

lalist 
Ihurt 

Al- 


phonse  running  to  the  door  and  opening  it  with 
avidity  and  every  evidence  of  satisfaction.  "  She's 
coming  here  with  the  other  girls." 

In  they  came  merrily,  attired  so  that  they  looked 
like  dainty  Parisian  confections,  four  of  them, 
Lucine  last. 

"  A  shong!  "  Taschereau  shouted  at  once,  being 
in  just  that  humur. 

*'  But  first  a  toast !  "  put  in  the  polite  Alphonse 
quickly  filling  glasses  for  all.  **  To  the  girls  from 
the  banks  of  the  Seine !  " 

The  glasses  clicked  and  were  emptied. 

"  Fill  again  !  "  shouted  Tinette. 

"  Fill !  "  echoed  Taschereau. 

"The  toast.-*"  asked  Carmier.  He  himself 
wanted  to  suggest  the  Lily  of  the  Orient,  but  did 
not  dare. 

"To  the  daughters  of  the  Nile,"  proposed 
Mademoiselle  Fleury. 

They  drank  with  vim — for  they're  liberal,  those 
Parisiennes.  To  the  men  it  was  irresistible :  in 
the  sparkle  of  the  wine  they  saw  black  eyes  steal- 
ing shy  glances  over  the  top  of  thin  veils,  felt  the 
enticement  that  lurks  in  a  yashmak. 

"  Now  then,"  ventured  the  rather  timourous 
Lucine,  "  another !  " 

"  What  is  it .?  " 

"To  Le  Beau  Sabreur!  "   she  answered. 

And  Tinette  added : 

79 


Near   the   Throne 

"  Captain 

Then  Carmicr : 

"Marcel-      " 

Finally  Taschcrcaii : 

"Balzar!" 

Again  the  brimming  glasses  clicked  as  they  re- 
peated the  popular  toast : 

"  Le  Beau  Sabreur  !  " 

"  You  should  be  in  good  voice  after  your  swim," 
suggested  IMonsieur  Carmier  to  tlie  girls. 

"  Early  thish  morning  in  the  Nile,"  added  Tas- 
chereau  jogging  their  apparently  failing  memories. 

They  looked  surprised.      It  is  a  feminine  right. 

"Oh,  I  saw  you,"  Plutarcjue  protested,  not  at 
all  willing  to  regard  them  as  imiocent  fawns. 

"And  Mademoiselle  C'haumont. " 

"  So  did  Carmier." 

"  Imitating  the  f-fair  daughter  of  I'haraoh." 

"  But,"  laughed  Lucine  acknowledging  their  out- 
ing and  referring  to  the  same  renowned  maiden, 
"we  have  no  fairy  tales." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  my  new  bathing  suit.''  " 
asked  Tinette. 

And  Taschereau  replied  : 

"There  washn't  'nough  of  it  to  form  an  opinion 
on. 

"  l^ut  the  song!"   said  Carmier. 

"  I'm  going  to  a  teacher,"  announced  Tas- 
chereau;   "to  liave  my  voice  tried." 

80 


i  ^^ 


K. 


Near   the   Throne 


I-?  " 


uon 


as- 


J 


■I 


1 


This  was  the  opportunity  for  the  Titian  hair  to 
prove  its  colour.  Winking  to  Lucine  she  turned 
and  said  to  the  aspiring  vocalist : 

"  Why  don't  you  go  to  a  magistrate  ?  1  le  might 
give  you  a  year  in  the  l^astille  for  it !  " 

"The  song,"  insisted  Carmier,  "from  Made- 
moiselle Chaumont !  " 

"From  Tinette!"  seconded  the  young  gover- 
ness, who,  according  to  report,  had  once  herself 
done  small  parts  at  the  opera  in  Paris. 

"  No,"  replied  the  former  chanteuse,  who,  not- 
withstanding spasmodic  efforts  in  that  direction, 
had  never  been  able  to  obliterate  entirely  from  her 
manners  the  traces  of  the  soubrette  that  through  a 
long  and  thorough  apprenticeship  seemed  to  have 
gotten  insidiously  into  her  corpuscles.  "  From 
Lucine  first. " 

"A  song  from  Mademoiselle  Lucine!"  echoed 
Carmier,  secretly  glad  and  preferring  to  second 
this  reciuest.      "  Mademoiselle  Lucine!  " 

"After  Tinette!"  answered  the  Provencal. 

s 

"  Tinette !  "  called  Taschereau    "  And  a  dance !  " 

"Tinette!"     came    in    chorus    from    the    rest. 

"And  a  dance'" 

They  expected    Mademoiselle    I^^leury   with    all 

her  abandon   and   verve  to  burst  forth   in   one  of 

those    somewhat    naughty   ballads,    jingling    with 

lingerie  and  gaiety  that  are  turned  on  in  the  cafe 

world   of   the  radiant   Capital  when  the   cigarette 
6  8i 


Near  the  Throne 


I 


smoke  curls  thick  along  the  ceiling — but  instead 
she  mounted  the  table,  and,  holding  up  a  brimming 
glass  of  the  sparkling  inspiration,  proposed  their 
health  in  a  verse  of  her  own : 

"  Now  here's  to  the  girl  who's  a  rollicking  boy, 
Here's  to  the  lads  when  they're  youthful, 
Here's  to  tl  e  dashing  carouser's  gay  toy, 
Here's  to  the  tlirts  that  are  truthful." 

Holding  up  a  brimming  glass  and  swaying  with 
the  rhythm  she  sang  the  chorus : 

"  Pass  the  canteen,  drink  to  the  queen. 

Toast  dimpled  chins,  without  any  sins ; 
Pass  the  canteen,  drink  to  the  queen, 
Toast  to  the  man  who  wins!  " 

Raising  daintily  just  the  edge  of  her  skirt  she 
went  on,  the  toes  of  the  others  beating  time : 

"  So,  here's  to  the  hoyden  whose  capers  you  prize, 
Now  for  the  speech  that's  witty ; 
Here's  to  the  nymph  with  the  naughty  blue  eyes. 
Now  to  <^he  ankle  that's  pretty !  " 

They  all  picked  up  the  chorus  this  time,  as  their 
lifted  glasses  clinked : 

•'  Pass  the  canteen,  drink  to  the  queen, 
Toast  dimpled  chins,  without  any  sins; 
Pass  the  canteen,  drink  to  the  queen, 
Toast  to  the  man  who  wins!  " 

"Bravo!"    they   shouted.      "  Bravo  I       Tinette! 

Encore  !   P^ncore!  " 

82 


I 


I 


instead 
mmin<j^ 
:l  their 


g  with 


irt  she 


^  their 


iiette 


t 


t 


Near  the  Throne 

So  Mademoiselle  Vivacity  sang  on : 

' '  Well,  now  on  the  happiest  day  of  my  birth, 
Here's  to  the  man  who  misses! 
Now  on  the  merriest  night  of  our  mirth, 
Here's  to  my  witching  kisses !  ' 

Without  waiting  for  them  to  join  in  she  changed 
the  cnorus  a  bit,  the  others  swinging  with  the 
music  : 

"  Pass  the  canteen,  drink  to  the  queen, 
Toast  future  bliss,  and  never  dismiss ; 
Pass  the  canteen,  drink  to  the  queen, 
I  give  you  my  good-bye  kiss. 

Jumping  down  from  the  table  Tinette  touched 
her  fingers  to  her  lips  again  and  quickly  ran  out  of 
the  room,  while  they  all  clapped  their  hands  with 
convivial  enthusiasm  and  called  : 

"Bravo!" 

"  Bravo  !  "   bawled  the  parrot. 

Carmicr  went  after  the  favourite  and  brought  her 
back. 

'^Gar^onl"  shouted  Taschercau  apparently 
thinking  he  was  back  in  his  old  haunts  again. 
"  Gar(^on  !   More  absinthe  !  " 

VV',..i  the  dashing  refrain  of  the  song  they  started 
the  dance— the  six — when  suddenly  Tinette  cried 
in  warning : 

"  Monsieur  l^alzar  !  " 

A  glance  out  of  the  window  sufficed  for  proof. 

«3 


Near   the   Throne 

"  VVitli  Xazira!"   added  lAicine. 

Plutarque  was  suddenly  filled  with  a  sense  of 
duty  and  a  burning  anxiety  to  clear  the  surgery. 

"Thish  way!"  he  said  pointing  to  the  door 
leading  to  the  rest  of  the  house. 

They  went  out  dancing.  They  probably  finished 
the  step  in  another  room,  but  they  disappeared 
just  in  time. 


m        I 


loor 


i 


CIIAinKR    II 

-  ■         1  "     ■      ■ 

TllK    LII'K    oi-    A    KISS 

"Kvcry  one  speaks  well  of  you,"'  said  Nazira 
coming  into  the  surgery  from  the  street  with  her 
fiance. 

"T  hope  not,"  he  answered  with  a  deprecating 
smile.      "  It's  bad  form  to  have  a  good  reputation." 

"Marcel!  she  exclaimed  surprised  at  this 
frank  avowal  of  cosmopolitan  unconventional ity. 
But  his  glance  and  laugh  were  reassuring.  She 
knew  his  penchant  for  saying  certain  things  merely 
for  the  expression's  sake. 

l'>ven  had  she  wished,  Nazira  could  not  have 
helped  observing  the  increased  ornamentation  of 
this  Gallic  room.  It  all  tended  toward  the  imper- 
ial. The  savants  who  accompanied  Bonaparte  to 
the  Orient  busied  themselves  with  the  invention 
of  new  emblems  and  insignia  for  the  empire  he 
dreamed  of  founding.  But  foe  the  monogram  the 
young  Corsican  esteemed  most  highly,  Balzar 
had  a  meaning  of  his  own:  to  his  heart  it  stood 
for  Nazira — the  wreath  of  laurel  encircling  the 
letter  N. 

85 


Near  the  Throne 


% 


m 


i  I 


Leading  her  to  a  chair,  the  Captain  changed  the 
subject  by  remarking: 

"  You  heard  that  Napoleon  is  leaving  Cairo?  " 

"Today?"  she  asked,  always  eager  to  hear  of 
new  developments  in  the  campaign. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.      "  For  Palestine." 

What  the  little  Corsican's  designs  were  on  the 
Holy  Land  was  of  small  moment  to  Nazira.  Her 
interest  was  in  her  own  country  and  its  fate.  This 
was  quite  evident  from  her  immediate  inquiry: 

"  Who  is  to  govern  I'2gypt?  " 

"Murad." 

"  Really?  "  said  the  girl,  astonished  at  what  she 
regarded  as  a  weak  streak  of  gullibility  on  the  part 
of  the  ambitious  young  artilleryman  that  he  should 
be  so  easily  ensnared  by  the  artful  blandness  of 
the  I'asha. 

"  He  has  apparently  gained  great  favour  with 
Bonaparte,"  explained  Captain  Balzar,  "and  our 
General  seems  to  consider  it  a  wise  stroke  during 
his  own  absence  to  make  Murad  supreme." 

"Why  so?"   she  questioned. 

"  Because  of  the  prestige  of  the  Pasha,"  was  the 
prompt  reply.  JUit  it  was  unsatisfactory.  Iking 
a  physician  Marcel  should  have  known  the  folly 
of  assigning  the  real  reason.  If  you  ever  want  a 
woman  to  disbelieve  you,  tell  her  the  truth. 

Nazira  tossed  back  her  head  with  a  frown  fol- 
lowed by  a  gesture  of  impatience.     The  intuition 

86 


Kear  the  Throne 


i:«-d  the 


iiro?" 
hear  of 


on  the 
.     Her 
This 
iry : 


bat  she 
tie  part 
should 
less  of 

r  with 
id  our 
during 


as  the 


Beinj'- 


J  folly 
vant  a 

n  fol- 
uition 


of  a  femirine  mind  often  brings  a  quick  percep- 
tion of  the  credulity  of  a  masculine  mind.  Wo- 
man has  a  geometry  that  in  the  art  of  war — for 
hearts  or  sceptres —derides  that  of  Euclid  and 
draws  new  charts  for  occupants  of  thrones  and 
pullers  of  triggers,  knowing  that  Caesar  and 
Tommy  Atkins  are  brothers  under  the  skin  and 
remembering  always  that  an  arrow  from  the  bow 
of  Cupid  is  often  more  accurate  of  aim  and  deadly 
of  effect  than  the  torpedo  from  a  gun  of  Krupp. 
But  no  woman  ever  knew  all  the  plans  of  I^ona- 
parte,  the  arch  strategist. 

Had  Nazira  turned  lier  head  a  little  farther  she 
would  have  seen  Murad  and  the  astrologer  stand- 
ing and  watching  them  through  the  window  at  the 
back  of  the  surgery.  They  had  come  to  see  the 
doctor,  and  the  path  to  the  door  led  past  the 
window.  There  they  stood  in  the  flitting  gleams 
of  sunlight  that  filtered  through  the  leaves  of 
the  gently  swaying  trees  to  the  casement — two 
men  whose  hearts  were  as  swarthy  as  their  faces, 
and  who  had  never  been  drawn  away  from  any 
purpose  or  desire  by  any  principle  or  fear. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten,"  continued  Captain 
Halzar,  "  that  before  Napoleon  crossed  the  Medi- 
terranean, Egypt  was  ruled  by  twenty-four  beys, 
and  the  twenty-four  beys  were  ruled  by  Murad 
and  Ibrahim." 

"  And    >.iail    be    again,"    muttered    the    crafty 

^7 


Near   the  Throne 


|iii 


1 1 


conspirator  beneath  bis  breatb  to  Osnian — "by 
Mnrad  alone." 

"  At  the  bead  of  the  Mainebikes,"  answered 
Nazira  witb  warm  patriotism;  "the  best  and  most 
invincilile  cavalry  in  the  world." 

*' Tbrabim  is  dead,"  Marcel  reminded  ber — "de- 
stroyed with  the  Mamelukes  at  the  Battle  of  the 
Pyramids.  As  for  ^Murad,  he  professes  to  have 
been  won  over  to  the  cause  of  Napoleon." 

Murad  laui>;hed  in  derision. 

"  But  surely " 

"Ah,  that's  just  it,"  Marcel  said,  anticipating 
her  exclamation  of  wonderment  and  glancinj;- 
around. 

But  the  two  men  had  disappeared. 

"The  little  Corsican  is  no  fool,"  the  Parisian 
resumed.  "  He  has  bold  of  a  wet  eel  by  the 
tail — and  he  knows  it.  He  has  left  Murad  to 
look  after  I\<;yj)t,  but  be  has  left  a  P>ench  soldier 
to  look  after  Murad." 

"And  the  name  of  that  I^Vench  soldier  ]s?" 
she  asked,  surmising  the  fact. 

"  I^alzar,"  he  admitted. 

She  looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  mingled 
surprise  and  disapproval. 

"  I  am  here  to  care  for  tlie  wounded  in  the 
hospital,"  he  maintained,  then  with  a  subtle  in- 
tonation added — "and   to   watch  the  rrafty  in  the 

Citadel." 

88 


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Near  the  Throne 


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f  the 

have 


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i 


"  Secret  service  is  dangerous,"  said  Nazira,  fear- 
^  ing  as  all  girls  do  for  the  safety  of  her  lover. 

"  1  know,"  he  replied. 

"  Miirad  is  daring,"  she  cautioned. 

"Others  are  too,"  answered  the  Captain  of  the 
^  Twentieth  Chasseurs.     "  My  sword  is  at  my  side, 

and  with  it  1  shall  go  far.  I  have  a  great  trust  to 
fulfil." 

Nazira  was  apparently  satisfied — at  least  of  the 
futility  of  warning.      Then  she  said  : 

"  Father  is  coming  to  see  you  today,  and  he 
wants  me  to  call  with  him.  I  don't  know  what 
he  wishes  to  speak  with  you  about." 

"  I  shall  be  at  home  all  morning." 

"Marcel." 

"Yes." 

"  I  promised  to  show  you  a  little  portrait." 

"  Of  your  mother,"  he  added  as  she  withdrew  an 
ivory  miniature  from  beneath  the  folds  of  her  dress. 

"  There  it  is,"  she  said  handing  it  to  him, 

J  le  looked  at  it  a  moment^  while  she  regarded 
his  countenance. 

"  Jt  is  the  imrge  of  yourself  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

J*)he  smiled  at  his  enthusing  so  much. 

"  Will  you  give  it  me.-'  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  responded.  "  I  could  not  part  with 
it.       .Siie  was  so  fond  a  mother." 

"  F(jr  a  little  while  then  .^  "    he  begged  sitting 

down  beside  her.      "  Until  to-morrow.?  " 

89 


Near  the  Throne 


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%. 


*'  It  seems  so  long  now,  Marcel,  to  wait  for  each 
tomorrow,"    she  confessed,  answering  his  caress. 
"  1  want  to  be  in  your  presence  all  the  time." 
'*  And  I  in  yours,  dearie." 

Then  thinking  jierhaps  of  the  bags  of  gold  and 

silver  in  her  father's  vault 
in  the  counting  room, 
Nazira  continued : 

"  Love  is  not  like 
pieces  of  base  coin  that 
we  can  spend  or  hoard 
up." 

**  No,"  he  agreed,  his 
arm  encircling  her. 

**  Love  is  our  life,"  she 
went  on.     "  We  lavish  or 

withhold  it  all." 

"  And  you  have  giv- 
en — - — 

"All   I   have,"  she  re- 
plied. 
"  Nazira  !  "   Marcel  exclaimed  rapturously. 
"J^ut  I  wish  I  had  not." 

"  Nazira  !  "  he  said  again  in  astonishment,  draw- 
ing away  his  arm  and  looking  her  full  in  the  face. 
It  was  the  coming  of  a  speck  of  cloud  on  the 
horizon. 

"  For  then,"  she  gloried,  "  I  should  have  more 


to  give. 


I 


90 


Near  the  Throne 


This  was  the  swift  dissol 


vin^  of  the  cloud  as  if 


giv- 


I 


i 


f" 


IS  was  me  switt  dissolving  or  tne  ciouci  as  i 
in  the  warmth  of  the  noonday  sun.  He  pressed 
lier  closely  to  him,  so  that  vshe  must  have  felt  the 
quick  throbbing  of  his  heart. 

At  that  moment  the  two  Egyptians  appeared 
again  just  outside  the  window. 

"  Ah,  Murad  !  "  marvelled  Osman,  anxious  to 
make  his  master  more  eager.  The  ^'i  )loger 
knew  well  how  highly  the  counsellor  is  esteemed 
who  advises  the  pursuit  of  a  client  .s  own  inclina- 
tion. 

"  Sweetheart,"  Marcel  added  smoothing  Nazira's 
hair. 

"  Look  upon  her,"  urged  the  Hey.  "  What  a 
perfect  woman ! " 

*' And  do  you  really  love  me,  Marcel.'*"  asked 
Nazira,  seeking  over  again  the  assurance  that  a 
surrendered  heart  demands  so  frequently, 

"Think,"  continued  the  old  man  as  he  per- 
ceived the  Pasha's  interest  increasing  and  his  blood 
mounting,  "  that  face " 

"  O  Nazira  !  "  said  Balzar,  "  you  know  I  do.  Do 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  nestling  closer. 

"  Those  eyes "  Osman  pursued,  himself  con- 
templating their  languorous  glow. 

*' But  sometimes,"  replied  Nazira,  "a  woman 
likes  to  be  told  the  things  she  knows." 

The  astrologer  took  his  master's  arm,  almost  as 

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Near  the  Throne 

if  he  would  make  to  hold  him  hack  as  he  kept  on 
in  his  enumeration  : 

"  Those  lips " 

"There  would  he  passion  in  their  kisses," 
Murad  said,  the  fire  of  his  hlack  eyes  revealing 
what  he  took  no  pains  to  conceal  and  felt  that  his 
companion  observed. 

"LX'arest,"  liilzar  whispered,  still  unconscious 
of  any  other  presence  but  Nazira's. 

Osman  kept  on  adding  more  fuel  to  the  fire  that 
was  consuming  the  shameless  Saracen. 
"Her  smile." 

"And  sometimes,"  the  soldier  of  France  al- 
lowed, "a  man  likes  to  tell  what  is  in  his  heart. 
Vou  are  all  my  world.  Waking  I  think  of  you 
and  sleeping  I  dream  of  you." 

The  two  at  the  window  heard  this  with  a  start 
back.  J5oth  were  incensed  at  the  sway  the  for- 
eigner had  acquired  over  their  countrywoman.  Ikit 
Murad's  was  the  anger  of  jealousy,  which  the  cun- 
ning astrologer  fanned  by  persisting  very  softly 
while  he  let  his  hand  slip  down  Murad's  sleeve: 

"  Her  form,  so  voluptuous " 

Then  they  heard  Marcel  say : 
"  You  are  always  in  my  thoughts." 
And  Murad  himself  this  time  added  : 
"That  bosom." 

"The  pillow  of  Balzar,"  frowned  Osman,  notic- 
ing his  master's  scowl. 

9- 


^■■H" 


Near   the  Throne 


"  Darling !  "  sighed  Xazira,  her  arms  clasped 
tightly  around  her  lover's  neck  as  she  rested  in  his 
close  embrace. 

"Think,"  urged  ( )sman,  "what  it  would  be 
worth  to— "' 

"  Oh !  "  answered  Murad  as  they  disappeared 
together  from  the  window,  "  a  night  worth  i 
world !  " 

Forgetful  of  all  else  it  had  been  to  Marcel  and 
Naziraas  if  their  caresses  and  confessions  had  been 
looked  upon  by  no  other  eyes  and  listened  to  by  no 
other  ears  than  each  other's.  Nor  did  he  cease 
from  pouring  out  his  soul  to  1  ei  : 

*'  You  are  so  beautiful  arid  pure  and  true,  dear 
one.      r\Hir  days  more  and  you  will  be  my  bride." 

"  O  Marcel  I  "  she  responded  in  the  very  ecstasy 
of  that  passion  that  is  most  divine,  "is  it  not 
lovely  to  love  and  lovely  to  be  loved  .!*  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied — "it  changes  earth  to  para- 

d'      »» 
ise. 

Then  after  a  moment  she  said  : 

"  I  must  go  now.      1^'ather  may  want  me." 

And  he  kissed  her  again. 

"Sometimes,"  she  went  on,  letting  her  hand 
remain  motionless  in  his,  but  dropping  her  head, 
"  sometimes  I  have  wondered  how  long  a  kiss  ma)' 
last.  Everything  that  is  sweet  or  beautiful  seems 
to  pass  away  so  soon  :  the  colour  of  a  rose,  the  per- 
fume of  a  violet,  the  song  of  a  nightingale — they 

93 


w 


Near  the  Throne 


( I 


ii 


i! 


are  pretty.      You  see,  you  smell,  you  hear  —they 
are  delightful — they  are  gone." 

*'  But,"  he  replied  taking  a  flower  from  the  lapel 
of  his  coat,  "a  kiss  is  not  a  joy  of  so  brief  life. 
It  alights  upon  the  lips  like  the  drop  of  dew  upon 
the  blushing  petal  of  this  rose  and  slips  silently  in- 
to the  heart.  O  Nazira,  how  long  may  a  kiss  live  ?  " 
"  Mine  ^  A  kiss  from  me }  " 
"  Yes." 

**  As  long  as  memory  lives,  as  long  as  the  soul 
lives — forever." 

He  gave  her  the  rose.  Then  looking  into  her 
eyes  with  all  the  earnestness  and  intensity  of 
his  nature  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  in  one  long 

endearment  of  forgetful- 
ness  and  passion,  kissing 
her  again  and  again  and 
saying : 

"  I  love  you  —  I  love 
you — I  love  you !  " 

But  the  drop  of  dew  was 
a  tear  upon  the  petal. 

**  An  Egyptian's  lover," 
Nazira  said  half  interroga- 
tively, but  in  the  sweet 
certainty  that  he  belonged 
to  her — body  and  soul. 

"For  all   eternity,"   he 
vowed. 
94 


Near  the  Throne 

Resting  her  head  on  his  breast  and  looking  up 
at  him  she  answered : 

"  My  own — my  very  own !  " 

A  few  moments  passed. 

Then  kissing  the  rose  to  him  she  went  out  the 
door  into  the  street  and  left  him  standing  watch- 
ing there  alone. 


.  ;t 


i        ' 


i    I 


CIIAJTKR    III 


PAll)     I\    HIS    (>\V.\    WINE 

Recovering  from  the  sweet  intoxication  of 
Nazira's  presence  llilzar  sat  down  by  the  table, 
remarking  to  himself: 

"  There  are  so  many  wounded  in  the  hospital  it 
gives  me  nearly  all  I  can  do." 

Presently  he  took  a  wine  glass  and  poured  it  full 
from  the  bottle  his  private  secretary  had  filled  with 
water.  He  held  it  to  the  light— tasted  it. 
**  Rather  vi'eak,"  was  his  opinion  as  he  threw  the 
liquid  away.      "  Most  likely  it  was " 

At  that  instant  the  door  opened. 

'•  Taschereau  !  "  the  physician  said,  concluding 
his  sentence  and  greeting  his  amanuensi  •-  with  the 
same  word. 

"  Monsieur,"   answered  tlie  genial  tippler  some- 
what thick  of  tongue. 
"Well.'" 

"Murad  and  Osman  called  shee  you,"  he  said. 
"  I  told  them  you  were  out." 

"Out  of  what.'"  asked  the  doctor  very  ciuizzi- 
cally. 

"Oh,    I'm    not    drunk!"     Plutarque    jaotested, 

96 


Near   the   Throne 


trying  very  hard  to  stand  perfectly  straight  but 
with  varying  degrees  of  success.  Then  studying 
his  boots  and  finally  putting  one  out  a  bit  he  ven- 
tured the  decision  :  "  Thish  my  right  foot." 

Marcel  could  not  but  admit  that  he  had  guessed 
correctly.  ''  You're  all  right,"  he  said  with  an 
approving  slap  on  the  shoulder  which  nearly 
proved  serious. 

"  That'sh  jusht  my  weaknesh,"  acquiesced  the 
honest  revolutionist,  looking  hard  at  one  foot  and 
trying  in  vain  to  induce  the  other  to  go  forward 
and  at  the  same  time  withdrawing  a  flask  from  his 
pocket,  "  if  I  only  had  a  little  left." 

"Have  a  drink.'"  said  the  Captain  offering 
him  the  bottle. 

Monsieur  Plutarque  Taschereau   looked  at  it   in 

disgust. 

"  With  me,"  coaxed  Marcel. 

"  I've  sworn  off,"  averred  he  ot  the  tricolour  sash, 
endeavouring  to  brush  the  bottle  aside,  but  only 
turning  himself  around  on  his  heel  instead. 

''Since  when?"  inquired  Cajjtain  l^alzar  pour- 
ing two  glasses  in  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  his 
hospitality  and  good-fellowship.  ''Ha,  ha,  ha! 
Sworn  off .'      You?      Nonsense!     Since  when  ?  " 

"  Not  a  drop,"  swore  the  temperate  Taschereau, 
"has  passed  my  lips  shince " 

"Here!"     interrupted    Balzar  giving    him  one 
of  the  glasses.      *'  Drink  that !  " 
7  97 


T 


m 


Near  the  Throne 

"  No ! "  the  rubicund  gentleman  protested, 
though  there  was  no  record  of  his  ever  having 
refused  before.   **  Xo  !  " 

"What's  it  to  be?"  the  Captain  asked,  raising 
his  own  glass  and  compelling  Plutarque  to  lift  his 
by  force  of  example  and  the  courtesy  due  to  a  host. 

Taschereau  made  an  f^^ort  to  chime  in  and  pro- 
pose a  toast : 

"  To-to-to " 

"  To  Paris  !  "  proposed  the  soldier. 

The  glasses  clicked. 

"To  Parish!"  replied  the  journalist,  drinking 
with  great  effort,  while  Balzar  smilingly  emptied 
his  share  into  the  centre  of  a  rather  hollow  seat 
of  an  antique  chair.  It  seemed  to  be  the  most 
convenient  place — and  there  was  no  time  to  look 
for  anything. 

"  Again !  "  said  Balzar  laughingly  filling  the 
glasses. 

"To-to " 

"To  the  Latin  Quarter!" 

Click! 

Balzar  poured  his  in  the  same  place. 

"  To  the  Latin  Qua "   repeated  Taschereau, 

taking  his  share  with  every  expression  of  swal- 
lowing something  exceedingly  disagreeable  to  the 
taste. 

"  Again !  "  shouted  Balzar  tiijoying  the  joke 
and  pouring  out  the  third. 

98 


Near  the  Throne 


"  No !  "  came  in  hiccoughed  protest.  "  No 
more  for  me  !  " 

"To  our  old  cafe — La  Fille  d'Or!"  proposed 
the  Captain. 

Taschereau  could  not  refuse. 

Click!   Click! 

Balzar  dashed  his  in  the  same  convenient  place. 

"  To-to-our  old  ca " 

**  Vc  !  "  the  surgeon  concluded  for  him. 

"  Cafe !  "   repeated  Plutarque.     "  La  Fille " 

Taschereau  stopped  short  and  hiccoughed.  He 
could  struggle  no  further.  Then  he  forced  the 
liquor  down  as  though  he  were  loading  a  gun. 

"  Bravo  !  "  shouted  Captain  Balzar. 

"  Not  a  drop  hash  pashcd !  "   reiterated  Tascher- 
eau in  the  manner  of  a  man  taking  a  serious  oath. 
'  Not  a  drop  of  anything,"  he  stumbled  on,  sitting 
down   in  the  chair  of  which  the  seat  was  running 
over,  "  but  washer!  " 

"But  water!"  echoed  Marcel,  holding  up  his 
glass  as  if  his  embarrassed  companion  had  proposed 
a  toast. 

Plutarque  jumped  up  v;ith  even  more  alacrity 
than  he  had  ever  accepted  a  drink. 

"Quite  true!"  agreed  Balzar,  rubbing  it  in. 
"Quite  true!" 

Feeling  to  learn  the  nature  and  extent  of  the 
damage  done,  Plutarque  endeavoured  to  hasten  from 
the  surgery  as  quickly  as  his  unsteady  legs  could 

99 


Near  the  Throne 


carry  him,  but  be  fell  over  tbat  foot  he  was  so 
sure  of.  I'ickin^'  liimself  up  he  stumbled  out 
muttering;: 

"Noshing-  but  washer- -washer." 

Captain  lialzar,  tired  with  his  labours  in  the 
hospital,  for  the  wounded  soldiers  seemed  to  be 
greatly  retarded  in  their  convalescence  by  the 
climate  of  I'^gypt,  lay  down  on  a  camp  bed  to  rest 
a  while.  lie  was  just  be^nnninj^  to  doze  when 
Madame  Balzar  entered. 

"Marcel!"  she  said  gently  drawing  aside  the 
curtains  and  stopping  in  the  doorway.      **  Marcel !  " 

lie  heard  her.  Hut  there  came  over  him  a 
temptation  to  pretend  not  to  be  awake.  He  did 
not  try  to  resist  it. 

The  mother  came  over  c|uietly  and  watched  him 
for  a  few  seconds.      He  was  breathing  heavily. 

"Asleep,"  she  said  stroking  his  brow.  "My 
boy."  Then  placing  a  screen  around  the  stretcher 
so  that  he  might  be  shielded  from  the  window  and 
any  possible  draughts,  she  kissed  her  son  and  tip- 
toed from  the  room. 

Marcel  sat  up  and  looked  after  her.  "  Mother," 
he  said,  "you  are  so  loving."  Then  he  arose  and 
went  slowly  and  wearily  up  the  stairway  to  his 
own  room. 

Just  as  he  disappeared  from  the  landing  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  street  do^r.  No  one  answered 
it.      There  was  no  person  present.      The   knock 

I  oo 


Near  the  Throne 


was  repeated  more  loudly.  The  door  was  pushed 
open  from  the  outside,  and  Murad  came  in  accom- 
panied by  Osman.  Taschereau  wol)bled  in  the 
other  door  at  the  same  time,  apparently  having 
heard  the  summons  and  bein<;  on  his  way  to  find 
out  what  was  wanted. 

•'  We  have  called,  "  said  Murad  to  him,  "  to  see 
your  master,  Monsieur  l^alzar.      Is  he  at  home.'*  " 

'*  I  can't  find  him,"  replied  Taschereau. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  .-*  " 

"  Hy  the  beard  of  the  Prophet !  " 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  is  attendinic  a  patient." 

"  A  patient,"  sneered  Murad.    "  Hu !  A  woman." 

"  No  doubt,"  added  Osman,  sitting  down  at  the 
side  of  the  room  where  the  camp  bed  was  with  the 
screen  around  it. 

"Possibly,"  admitted  Taschereau,  "physicians 
do  attend  women."  And  he  stumbled  out  the 
door,  just  missing  a  serious  contact  with  his 
roseate  nose. 

"And  that  woman  is  Nazira, "  said  Alurad  to 
Osman. 

"  Beyond  a  doubt,"  the  astrologer  agrecc. 

Walking  across  the  room  and  seating  himself 
the  Pasha  showed  the  elder  Saracen  a  small  en- 
velope, adding  with  sarcastic  emphasis : 

"  Here  is  a  note  from  Balzar  saying  he  would  be 
at  home,  if " 

lOI 


Near  the  Throne 

"If!"  exclaimed  Osnian. 

**  Road  it,"  said  Miirad,  handin<;  the  missive. 

Osman  read  the  words  aloud : 

*'  If  the  business  is  official !  " 

He  tossed  the  paper  across  the  table  to  his 
master. 

"Could  you  forge  that  signature?"  asked 
Murad,  holding  the  paper  up  and  pointing  to 
Balzar's  name  written  in  bold  heavy  characters  at 
the  foot  of  the  page. 

"  I'll  try." 

"  Then  write." 

Osman  took  up  a  pen  and  followed  Murad  as 
he  dictated : 


It ; 


"  Worda  :  Come  to  me  now,  to  the  surgery,  as 
soon  as  you  receive  this  note.  T  am  alone — and 
we  shall  be  happy  in  our  love. 

"  Marcel." 

**  Marcel,"  repeated  Osman  as  he  added  the  brief 
flourish  to  the  final  letter,  just  as  it  was  in  the 
original.      He  passed  the  paper  to  Murad. 

"  Excellent !  "  pronounced  the  Pasha  regarding 
the  signature  critically  and  comparing  it  carefully 
stroke  by  stroke  with  that  in  the  note  addressed 
and  sent  to  himself.  Then  dusting  and  folding  the 
paper,  he  passed  it  to  Osman  and,  without  paying 
any  definite  attention  to  the  old  man's  inquiring 
glance,  went  on  with  his  instructions  :  "  Send  this 

102 


Near  the  Throne 
at  once  to  Hassan.      Say  you  intercepted  Halzar's 


messenger. 


The  astrologer  perceived  immediately  the  plan 
of  campaign,  and  as  he  tucked  the  forged  missive 
beneath  his  cloak  and  patted  the  spot  answered : 

'•I'll  do  it." 


If 


CHAPTER    IV 


(1  \  r.  V      A      I'  A  K  K  ()  T 


i   t) 


■IM, 


I  ' 


"  But,  Murad,"  resumed  Osman  after  putting 
the  pen  carefully  away  just  where  he  had  found  it 
and  shutting  the  ink-well. 

"Well?" 

"What  do  you  think  of  woman  anyway? " 

"Oh!  What  do  I  think  of  the  angels?"  was 
the  laughing  and  equivocal  response. 

"  He's  got  it  bad,"  said  the  parrot  very  indis- 
tinctly— so  much  so  that  only  an  ear  accustomed 
to  the  bird's  sallies  would  have  been  able  to  say 
whether  this  particular  effort  was  a  series  of  half- 
swallowed  words  such  as  a  baby  teething  might 
attempt  to  utter  or  merely  a  succession  of  ornitho- 
logical gurglings.  This  was  the  usual  result  when 
the  parrot  was  endeavouring  to  perfect  itself  in 
a  new  phrase  even  when  it  heard  it  often  and 
essayed  it  a  score  of  times. 

"But  there  are  differences  in  angels,"  added 
Murad  qualifying  his  last  statement. 

"  So  they  say,"  smiled  Osman. 

"  You  have  noticed  that  ?  " 

104 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


(( 


<< 


"Yes — when  I  visited  Paris." 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  Murad  forgetting  for  the  raoment 
Osman's  visit  to  the  French  Capital. 

"And  I  have  noticed  another  thing." 

"Yes.?" 
Many  men  seem  to  prefer  the  fallen  angels." 
Feu-ii!"   whistled  the  parrot. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  street  door.  The 
Pasha  opened  it. 

"  Hassan,"  said  he  suavely  in  greeting  and 
making  a  salaam  in  which  the  Hey  joined  as  the 
merchant  entered  the  room. 

"  Murad,"  answered  the  visitor  equally  respect- 
ful. 

"Coming!"  called  the  late  Plutarque  from  the 
next  room. 

"  Osman,"  added  Hassan  recognizing  the  as- 
trologer at  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  and  bow- 


mg  again. 


Taschereau  came  in  at  the  moment  of  the 
obeisance. 

"  Monsieur  has  not  returned,"  he  announced, 
still  muzzy,  "  but  he'sh  shpected  every  minute. 
Will  you  not  be  seated  Messieurs,  and  wait  for 
the  physishian }  " 

The  Frenchman  did  not  regard  these  three 
Egyptians  as  friends  of  his  and  was  utterly  indif- 
ferent even  when  sober  as  to  what  they  did  or 
thought,  therefore  without  waiting  for  their  answer 

105 


4 


H 
1 1, 


.i  I" 


i!  |« 


-jl:, 


Near  the  Throne 

and  tripping  only  once,  he  backed  out  as  gracefully 
as  his  condition  permitted. 

"  How  brightly  the  sun  is  shining  this  morning," 
remarked  Hassan  going  to  the  window. 

"  Allah  is  good,"  said  Murad  with  a  devout 
uplifting  of  his  brows. 

Then  from  the  distance  came  a  tremendous 
shout,  that  instantly  drew  the  attention  of  all  three  : 

''Napoleon!" 

Hassan  left  the  other  two  men  standing  near 
the  desk  and  went  quickly  to  the  window.  Osman 
frowned  and  seemed  waiting  for  his  master  to 
declare  himself.  Murad  stood  erect  with  anger, 
his  shoulders  set  firmly  and  his  head  tossed  proudly 
back.  They  heard  a  band  where  the  shout  had 
come  from  playing  with  all  the  spirit  that  victory 
and  bright  anticipations  beget :  "  Le  Chant  du 
Depart,"  then  another  farther  off  pouring  out  the 
strains  of  "  En  Route  Pour  La  Syrie."  Both  were 
coming  nearer.  In  a  moment  Hassan's  heart  was 
filled  with  shame  and  his  mind  with  resolution  : 
he  saw  the  approaching  battalions,  but  they  were 
the  soldiers  of  France — in  his  city  and  in  his 
Egypt. 

"  This  should  not   be,"   said  Osman    glancing 

around  at  the  passing  regiment  of  infantry  whose 

bayonets  they  could  just  see  going  by  the  window 

in  waves  of  conquest  as  the  men  marched  to  beat 

of  drums  coming  and  vanishing   in  the  opposite 

1 06 


I? ' 


Near  the  Throne 


direction.  Now  and  then  an  officer  on  horseback 
would  ride  past.  Then  came  the  crunching  and 
rolling  sounds  of  the  gun  carriages  as  the  artillery 
dragged  by,  the  splendid  black  Arabians  pressed 
into  its  service  prancing  as  though  in  rebellion 
and  longing  once  more  to  champ  the  bits  of  Murad 
and  his  matchless  Mamelukes. 

"Should  not  be.?"  repeated  the  Pasha  regard- 
ing Osman  with  astonishment.  **  Wait."  The 
man  had  the  air  of  magnetism  and  convincement. 
"And  that,"  the  Moslem  went  on  i^ointino-  off 
toward  the  East,  "  should  be  torn  down — that  cross 
glittering  in  the  sunlight.  Our  scimitars  must 
uplift  the  crescent." 

"There  is,"  added  Osman  with  a  steady  gaze 
full  of  meaning,  "one  man  who  can  do  it — one 
only." 

"  Osman,  you  are  right,"  was  the  reply.  "  In 
time  to  come  it  must  be  said  :  Murad  reigned  over 
Egypt,  sole  sovereign  of  the  land  of  Isis. " 

"  It  shall  be  said,"  answered  the  old  astrologer. 

"You  are  indeed  my  friend,"  responded  the 
conspirator,  speaking  low  that  Hassan  might  not 
hear. 

"The  crown  waits  for  Murad." 

"Up  to  the  present,"  agreed  the  young  Pasha, 

"  I  have  succeeded  in  climbing  near  the  throne. 

But  now,  this  Balzar  would  push  me  back.      He  is 

here  as  an  agent  of  Bonaparte " 

107 


tl! 


:f- 


m 


Near  the  Throne 


> 


'  r 


But  the  sentence  was  interrupted  with  a  swell- 
ing shout  from  the  street : 

"Hurrah!     Hurrah!" 

They  paid  no  attention  to  it  beyond  a  gesture 
of  impatience. 

"Well,"  resumed  Osman,  "the  power  of  your 
astrologer  is  not  gone.  Can  I  not  prepare  some 
fragrant  fruits— similar  to  those  you  sent  that  fel- 
low, I  forget  his  name,  three  hours  before  his 
death.?" 

"But,"  replied  the  far-seeing  and  cautious 
Murad,  "  Balzar  is  a  physician.  He  might  ex- 
amine the  fruits.     And  if  he  found  the  poison " 

"That  would  never  do,"  acquiesced  the  elder 
man  perceiving  that  his  master  wished  something 
either  bolder  or  cleverer.  ''Some  other  means 
must  be  devised." 

Murad  quickly  thought  of  his  plan. 

The  Iky  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  Hassan. 

"I'll  strike  Balzar  through  his  mother,"  the 
young  Mahometan  resolved. 

Osman  at  once  recognized  the  desirability  and 
possibilities  of  this  course,  but  wanting  Murad  to 
be  more  precise  he  asked : 

"How.?" 

"  Imprison  her." 

"Then.?" 

"Then  have  some  one  tell  him,"  the  Pasha  pro- 
ceeded. 

io8 


!'  I 


■ 


Near  the  Throne 

"That  will  keep  him  in  Cairo." 

"  In  case  we  should  need  him." 

"  Or  his  head,"  suggested  the  astrologer. 

"  What  prison  ?  Let  me  think.  In  the  secret 
dungeons  beneath  my  Palace." 

"  Our  own  Bastille. " 

Murad  considered  a  second  or  two,  then  said : 

*''  Cell  thirty  one." 

"  Cell  thirty  one,"  repeated  the  astrologer. 

"  Polly !  "  exclaimed  the  parrot,  who  had  been 
observing  them  with  a  wise  silence.  Both  the 
conspirators  glanced  around  in  alarm. 

"  Only  a  parrot !  "  both  laughed  together  when 
they  saw  the  bird. 

"  Polly  sell !  " 

"  Hush,"  said  Murad  in  caution,  noticing 
Hassan  coming  down  from  the  window. 

"  Egypt  is  the  sufferer,"  remarked  Osman,  im- 
mediately adapting  himself  to  the  situation  and 
apparently  continuing  a  conversation  intended  for 
Hassan's  ears. 

But  it  was  not  so  suitable  for  those  of  Balzar, 

who  at  that  very  moment  opened  the  door  of  his 

room   and  appeared  at   the  top  of   the   stairway, 

looking  a  trifle  sleepy  and  smoking  a  cigarette. 

However,  the  trio  in  his  surgery  interested  as  well 

as  surprised  him,   so  he   flicked  the  ashes  away, 

and  leaning  over  the  balustrade  lazily  watched  the 

Copt  and  the  two  Mahometans. 

109 


II 


i  i 


CHAPTER    V 


THE    THAI  I.    OF    THE    SLANDERER 


i!i 


IN : :  t 


"We  were  just  speaking  of  Napoleon,"  con- 
tinued Muracl  as  Hassan  walked  between  them. 

"  Pretty  Poll,"  interrupted  the  parrot  in  mock- 
cry  of  the  diplomatic  "falsehood  that  fell  so  easily 
from  the  lips  of  the  Pasha. 

Then  came  a  shout  from  the  crowded  street  to 
accentuate  the  aggravation  of  the  Egyptians  : 

"  Vive  la  P>ance!  " 

"  Indeed,"  said  Hassan,  taking  no  pains  to  con- 
ceal his  displeasure. 

"Yes,"  replied  Murad,  "we  must  be  at  the 
gates  as  the  General " 

"The  oppressor,"  put  in  Osman,  observing  the 
cumulative  effect  of  the  insults  to  the  patriotism 
of  the  merchant. 

"  And  the  army  depart,"  concluded  Murad. 

"Why  so?  "  asked  the  merchant. 

"To  bid  him  farewell." 

"  But  little  time  remains,"  suggested  Osman. 

"Feu!"  whistled  the  parrot  becoming  wide 
awake  at  the  same  time  as  its  medical  owner. 

no 


1- 

ly 

:o 


le 

e 
11 


Near  the  Throne 

Murad  went  on  warming  to  his  subject : 

"  Bonaparte  pretends  to  have  become  a  servant 
of  Mahomet." 

"To  catch  the  rabble,"  added  Osman  with  a 
shrug  of  impatience  and  disgust.  Some  men  al- 
ways feel  both  impatience  and  disgust  when  other 
men  adopt  their  own  methods. 

"Already,"  said  Murad,  "the  man  of  the  hea\y 
artillery  is  called  the  Lion  of  the  Desert." 

"And  the  King  of  Fire,"  added  Hassan. 

"  Feu-u-u !"  whistled  the  parrot  as  if  it  under- 
stood and  was  more  astonished  than  before. 

"  A  transparent  scheme,"  said  Murad. 

"The  sun  shines  through  it,"  broke  in  Hassan. 

This  was  what  the  other  two  had  been  working 
for:  to  arouse  the  resentment  of  the  merchant 
against  the  Corsican  and  then,  by  this  somewhat 
circuitous  but  sure  way,  against  the  surgeon  in  the 
adventurer's  army. 

"Yes,"  acquiesced  Murad  willingly  and  with  a 
glance  of  indication,  "but  leaves  a  shadow." 

Osman  did  not  wish  any  doubt  to  exist  in 
Hassan's  mind  as  to  what  or  who  this  shadow 
might  be,  so  he  came  out  with  the  blunt  statement : 

"  Balzar." 

"How  droll!"  that  gentleman  remarked  to 
himself,  puffing  his  cigarette  leisurely  and  send- 
ing a  cloud  of  smoke  curling  to  the  ceiling 

The  parrot  either  had  a  remarkable  perceptive 

1 1 1 


^ 


Near  the  Throne 


ii  1 


faculty  or  else  was  rehearsing  its  entire  repertoire, 
though  it  jumped  at  a  bound  from  Touchstone's 
retort  courteous  to  the  same  philosopher's  fifth 
degree  and  launched  into  the  countercheck  quar- 
relsome, shouting : 

'*  You're  a  liar!  " 

This  cheerful  piping  up  was  to  the  embarrass- 
ment of  at  least  two  of  the  men  on  the  floor  and 
to  the  intense  amusement  of  the  physician  at  the 
top  of  the  landing. 

Murad  pretended  not  to  notice  the  parrot,  going 
on  with  the  vilification  : 

"A  man  who,  like  his  master,  poses  as  the 
friend  of  the  people  of  Egypt." 

IVizar  smiled  with  easy  nonchalance  at  this  and 
leaned  forward  a  little,  contenting  himself  with 
sending  a  few  rings  of  smoke  circling  upward  and 
remarking  beneath  his  breath  : 

"Whata  villain  I  am." 

A  shout  came  again  from  further  down  the  street : 

''Hurrah!     Hurrah!" 

Murad  spoke  through  it : 

"  But  tear  off  the  mask " 

"And  you  find  the  spy,"  finished  Osman. 

"  I  never  thought  I  was  quite  so  black  as  that," 
said  Balzar  almost  audibly,  wishing  that  he  could 
write  down  this  vivid  description  of  himself  for  he 
thought  it  would  make  a  graphic  and  entertaining 
pen  picture. 

112 


^ 


K  I 


Near  the  Throne 

"The  traitor!"  added  Murad,  with  his  brows 
contracted  and  his  eyes  flashing  with  anger, 

"You're  a  damn  Uar!  "   screeched  the  parrot. 

"We  never  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us," 
quoted  Marcel,  disappearing  into  his  room  as 
Murad  turned  and  scowled  at  the  innocent  looking 
bird  perched  on  one  leg  and  looking  more  than 
green. 

The  parrot  answered  with  a  gaze  as  blank  and 
expressionless  as  that  of  the  Sphinx. 

"  We  need  to  guard  him  well,"  the  Pasha  con- 
tinued as  Balzar  reappeared. 

"And  very  cautiously,"  said  Hassan.  "He  is 
fearless." 

"And  clever,"  added  Osman. 

"He  goes  about  as  a  harmless  physician,"  said 
Murad.  "  But  once  a  soldier,  always  a  sol- 
dier." 

Tumultuous  shouts  from  the  streets  broke  in 
again : 

"  France !     And  Napoleon !  " 

Hassan  took  a  step  toward  the  window  and 
listened. 

Murad  took  this  opportunity  for  a  private  word 
to  Osman : 

"The  note  should  do  the  business.  But  I'll 
supply  him  with  another  motive." 

The   astrologer    nodded  comprehension  as  the 

merchant  came  to  them. 
8  113 


Near  the  Throne 


'■i 


*^;!i 


!  I 


"  Hassan,"  said  Murad  to  him,  "you  have  heard 
the  proverb :  one  good  turn  deserves  another?  " 

\  US. 

•'  J^y  chance,"  the  conspirator  continued,  watch- 
ing for  the  effect  of  the  statement,  "  I  have  in  my 
possession  a  letter  addressed  to  Admiral  Nelson." 

"  I  have  known  that  for  some  time,"  the  mer- 
chant answered,  with  polite  disdain. 

"It  bears  your  signature,"  the  Pasha  went  on 
with  sudden  directness,  then  with  polished  subt- 
lety :  "  I  have  thought  you  might  like  to  have 
it  in  your  possession.  It's  a  dangerous  scrap  of 
paper,  you  know." 

*'  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?  "  the  man  asked, 
anxious  to  learn  without  useless  delay  the  purpose 
of  this  manceuvre. 

IMurad  responded  with  equal  frankness : 

"  End  the  betrothal  of  Nazira  to  Balzar. " 

Tins  was  a  plain  offer  but  not  easy  of  imme- 
diate acceptance  or  declination.  Besides,  for  so 
decisive  a  stroke,  was  there  a  sufficient  motive? 

The  Pasha,  noticing  Hassan's  hesitation  and 
divining  the  cause  of  it,  added : 

"The  hour  I  learn  that  you  have  done  so,  I'll 
send  you  this  letter." 

"  I  could  wish,"  said  the  perplexed  father,  blam- 
ing the  general  circumstances  for  his  particular 
predicament,   "  that   these   PVench   had   never  set 

foot  in  our  land." 

114 


Near  the  Throne 

This  was  the  very  declaration  Murad  wanted. 
It  gave  him  the  opportunity  to  say  with  much 
significance  of  tone  and  manner: 

"  Ah,  Massan,  you  have  good  reasons  for  such 
a  wish." 

"They  have  injured  my  trade,"  complained  the 


merchant,  w^alking  toward  the  door  leading  to  the 
street  from  which  came  another  and  more  vocifer- 
ous shout : 

*'  Hurrah  !      Hurrah  !  " 

''More    than    that,"    said    the    slanderer,    with 
malignant  insinuation. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "    Hassan  questioned. 

'*  One  of  them  has  ruined  your  daughter. " 

115 


R  ' 


1 1 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

"  What !  " 

"Worda." 

*'  You  are  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"Positive." 

**  If  I  knew  the  man  I'd  strangle  him.'' 

*'  You  do  know  him.  " 

"Who?" 

**  A  physician." 

"  His  name  ?  " 

"It's  true." 

Hassan  was  now  aroused — he  was  prepared  to 
go  any  length. 

This  was  the  Pasha's  desire. 

"  Four  months  ago,"  the  Copt  answered  with 
threatening  emphasis,  "your  Osman  put  suspicions 
in  my  mind." 

"That  were  well  founded,"  replied  Murad  ex- 
ultant over  his  success. 

"  Ikit  the  time  for  that  has  gone,"  Hassan  re- 
torted. Then  coming  up  close  to  the  Pasha,  so 
that  their  shoulders  touched  and  their  eyes  met 
in  a  searching  defiant  gaze,  he  demanded  :  "  No 
hints — be  plain  !  " 

And  the  traducer,  leaning  on  the  balustrade, 
coldly  responded : 

"Balzar." 

Shaking  his  head   slowly,  one  hand   clutching 

the  other  nervously,    Has.san  repeated  the   name 

mechanically:  "Balzar — Marcel  Balzar. " 

ii6 


1 

I 


J 


i 


Near  the  Throne 


('. 


Instantly  the  surgeon  on  the  staircase  made  a 
start  down  the  steps,  but  restrained  himself,  say- 
ing between  his  teeth  : 

"  I  could  kill  him  now." 

To  think  that   it  was  the  man   in  whom  he  had 
placed  such  absolute  confidence  and  to  whom  he 
had  given   Nazira  in  betroth- 
al—suspicions that  had  been  .   « 
gnawing  his  mind  for  weeks 
had    been     confirmed  —  this 
was  a  blow  more  than  I  las- 
san  had   expected.     The  dis- 
tracted   father    walked   with 
unsteady    step    to   the   door, 
muttering  incoherently . 

"Balzar!  I  trusted  him. 
l^alzar." 

Without  a  look  behind 
he  went  out  into  the  street, 
still  muttering.  As  the 
door  closed  Murad  laughed — 
a     cynical     victorious 

laugh  that  had  the  bitterness  of  the  demon   in  its 
ring. 

The    surgeon's    sabre    grazed    the    balustrade. 

The    sound     attracted    the    Saracen.       Turning 

quickly  he   saw  Captain   l^alzar  standing  on   the 

landing  at  the  top  looking  down   upon   him  with 

contemptuous  anger.     Murad  rushed  up.      Balzar 

117 


Near  the  Throne 


coolly  folded  his  arms — and  before  him,  step  by 
step  the  Pasha  backed  down  the  stairs. 

"  You  are  right,  Murad,"  said  Le  Beau  Sabreur, 
pointing  to  the  window  where  a  troop  of  cav- 
airy  was  flashing  by,  "once  a  soldier,  always  a 
soldier — of  Napoleon  I  " 

At  that  moment  Honaparte  galloped  past  to 
tremendous  shouts : 

"  Long  live  Napoleon  !     Napoleon  !  " 

Without  waiting  for  the  acclamations  to  die 
away  or  the  music  in  the  distance  to  vanish  Bal- 
zar,  turning  the  key  in  the  door  and  observing 
that  the  two  men  with  him  noted  the  click  of  the 
lock,  continued : 

"  Listen.      When   I   was  a  boy  I  lay  down  one 

day  to  rest  myself  beneath  a  tree  in  an  open  field. 

I    fell    asleep.     And    while   I    slept    filthy    slimy 

things  came  crawling  over  me.      I  felt  their  foul 

touch — clammy,  defiling.      I  wakened — saw  them 

binding  me  with  their  webs,   strings  spun   from 

corruption.      I  watched  them  and  laughed.     They 

kept  on,  crossing  and  recrossing,  making  me  more 

secure   in   their  meshes,   binding  me  tighter  and 

tighter  in  their  unclean  network  till   they  thought 

they  had   me  in  their  power.      Tlien  I  arose  and 

shook  myself."     And  Balzar  followed  Mirad  up  as 

a  lion  might  follow  a  wolf,  muscle  to  muscle,  eye  to 

eye,  observing  every  twitch  of  the  Pasha's  features. 

**  They  shrank  from  me,"  he  went  on,  "  I  trampled 

ii8 


* 
<* 


I 


>  I 


Near  the  Throne 


12 


n 


upon  them.  They  squirmed.  I  crushed  then 
beneath  my  heel."  Then  he  paused  a  moment, 
and  knitting  his  brows  into  a  threatening  frown, 
asked  with  intense  irony  :  ''  Do  you  read  the  riddle  > 
I  lay  there  asleep  when  y-Hi  came.  You  wakened 
me.  I  heard  you  speak  of  poison  and  plots.  I 
laughed  at  you.  I  listened  while  you  besmeared 
my  good  name— saw  you  bind  me  in  your  web  of 
lies.      But  now— I'm  going  to  shake  myself  !  " 

Murad  who  had  backed  almost  up  to  the  door 
tried  to  interrupt,  saying : 

"Balzar " 

The  French  soldier  would  not  permit  it. 
Drawing  his  sword  and  advancing  he  said  : 

**  You  crawling  viper " 

Murad 's  hand  was  slipping  slowly  toward  his 
belt. 

Marcel  stopped  an  instant.  A  thought  occurred 
to  him.      He  put  his  blade  back  in  its  scabbard. 

"Sitting  here  yesterday,"  he  resumed,  "some 
one  shot  at  me.      It  was  you !  " 

"Monsieur!" 

"A  poniard  in  that  desk  stopped  the  bullet." 

"And  you  think " 

Opening  the  drawer  and  taking  up  the  flattened 
piece  of  lead,  Balzar  added  : 

"  Here  it  is !     But  I'll  send  it  back  to  you  !  " 

"  Captain " 

"  Soon  you'll  find  it,"  he  continued. 

119 


is 


Near  the  Throne 


1 

1*: 

,' 

\ 

If 

1 

1 

ll 
n 

^^  I 

J 

"Find  what?"   said  Murad. 
"  What  you're  looking  for !  " 

"Where?"  the  Pasha  asked  excitedly  as  he 
grasped  his  pistol. 

Quickly  taking  the  fourth  one  of  the  arms  lean- 
ing against  the  three  in  the  stack  and  putting  the 
muzzle  right  up  to  the  eyes  of  the  Egyptian,  Balzar 
replied  : 

**  Down  the  barrel  of  a  musket !  " 

Murad's  hands  dropped  to  his  side. 

"Go,"  Marcel  went  on,  opening  the  door— 
"your  time  has  not  come.  13ut  Til  kill  you 
yet— in  my  hour  of  triumph  !  " 

Without  a  word  Murad  and  Osman  went  out— 
to  devise  some  speedy  plot  to  rid  themselves  of 
this  outspoken  foe,  the  Corsican's  musketeer,  Le 
Beau  Sabreur. 


^1 


I! 


CHAPTER    VI 


THE    SUMMER    AXI)    A    ROSE 

Balzar  closed  the  door  and  locked  it  again, 
Placing  the  musket  back  in  the  stack  he  heard  the 
swift  clattering  of  hoofs  on  the  rough  pavement 
and  knew  that  the  two  Egyptians  were  galloping 
to  bid  Bonaparte  a  false  farewell.  The  noises 
that  accompanied  the  departing  army  were  very 
faint  now.  He  looked  around  the  room.  The 
surgery  was  as  tranquil  and  clean  as  ever.  There 
had  been  throwing  of  pitch  and  quarrelling,  but 
not  a  po\^\ler  was  spilled  and  not  a  phial  was  broken. 
The  blasting  of  a  reputation  leaves  no  debris  be- 
hind. The  blood  that  is  drawn  from  the  scratch 
of  a  pin  lurking  in  the  way  of  the  purest  kiss  will 
soil  more  whiteness  than  the  scattering  of  the 
blackest  calumny.  The  bacillus  of  a  lie  has  never 
been  discovered — and  the  breathing  of  the  vilest 
slander  does  not  pollute  the  air  any  more  than  the 
whispering  of  the  devoutest  prayer. 

Marcel  stood  thinking  a  moment.  The  atmos- 
phere was  as  before.  But  Hassan  was  the  father 
of  his  betrothed  He  had  heard  that  defamation. 
Would  he  give  it  credence .''     Surely  not — without 

121 


'S\ 


III 


!        I 


I'll! 


•  t 


)i: 


!  ;; 


I';   <\ 


Near  the  Throne 

further    evidence.      And  none  existed.     At   any 
rate  nothing  could    be  done  at  present.     Worry 
was  useless.      He  must  wait — and  try  with  a  laugh 
to  induce  a  light  heart. 
**  Feu-u-u-u !  " 

It  was  a  prolonged  whistle  from  the  parrot. 

Marcel  went  over  to  the  cage. 

'*  We  fixed  him,"  said  the  bird,  repeating  a 
phrase  it  had  picked  up  from  some  one  and  prac- 
tised daily — and  this  time  the  remark  was  cer- 
tainly apropos. 

"  Polly,  you're  a  bird,"  answered  l^alzar,  with  as 
much  appropriateness  as  truth. 

"  You're  another,"  replied  the  parrot. 

"What?"  the  Captain  exclaimed,  as  if  about 
to  strike  the  bars  playfully. 

"You're  all  right,"  explained  the  green  imp 
rattling  off  another  sentence  from  its  memory. 

"Oh!   I  see— that's  better." 

"Polly!" 

"  Have  a  cracker." 

"Cell,"  responded  the  parrot  indistinctly,  as  if 
trying  to  learn  something  new. 

"What.^" 

"Cell,"  it  said  again,  a  little  more  })lainly. 
"  Cell— cell !  " 

"  Sell.'  Oh,  yes,  sell,"  repeated  its  owner,  puz- 
zled and  amused  with  this  vague  and  enigmatic 
utterance  of  the  feathered  philosopher. 

122 


i>  I 


Near  the  Throne 

"Cell,"  it  said  again,  with  some  improvement 
in  enunciation  but  with  the  same  ambiguity  in 
meaning. 

"  1  have  nothing  to  sell,  Polly,  unless  it's  you." 

"Cell  thirty,"  went  on  the  parrot  with  persist- 
ence, one  word  very  much  run  into  the  other. 

"Sell  thirty  what  .^  "  said  the  physician,  much 
confused  by  this  equivocal  addition.  "  If  I  had 
thirty  parrots  I  think  I'd  sell  them." 

"Cell  thirty,"  continued  Polly,  evidently  deter- 
mined to  learn  its  new  lesson  and  go  on  with  the 
riddle.      "Cell  thirty  one." 

The  bird  seemed  relieved  and  relapsed  into  the 
serene  silence  of  alterations  in  its  toilet :  one  wise 
eye  on  its  deft  beak,  the  other  on  its  perplexed 
master,  apparently  wondering  if  the  latter  under- 
stood the  oracular  phrase. 

"  Sell  thirty  one  ?  What  does  that  mean,  Polly  >  " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  This  inter- 
ruption stopped  further  thought. 

It  sounded  a  second  time — a  stealthy  knock. 

To  answer  it  the  physician  walked  across  the 
surgery  and  stood  a  moment  with  his  fingers  on 
the  kev. 

Very  gently  the  knock  was  repeated. 

Balzar  turned  the  lock,  the  click  was  very  audi- 
ble, so  quiet  was  the  room.  The  door  was  opened 
from  the  outside — and  a  girl  looked  timidly  in. 

"  You  Worda.^  "   said  the  Captain,  surprised  and 

1-^3 


:| 


Near  the  Throne 


K 

t        " 


-  t      z 

Mil  ^" 


1 1 
1 


taking  her  by  the  arm  and  drawing  her  into  the 
room.     "  I  am  glad  you  have  come." 

This  reassured  her,  the  tone  of  his  voice  and 
the  grasp  of  his  hand. 

"  Are  you,  Marcel  ?  "  she  answered,  evidently 
not  expecting  such  a  welcome.      "It  is  so  strange.' 

"Why  so.?" 

"Nobody  seems  glad  to  see  mc — except  my 
little  pigeon  here." 

Its  head  could  just  be  seen  nestling  in  her 
bosom. 

"  I  shall  always  be,"  he  responded. 

"  You  know  why  I  do  not  live  at  home  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No  person  ever  told  me,"  he  replied,  in  avoid- 
ance of  a  direct  answer. 

"  Marcel,"  she  said  slowly,  her  voice  trembling 
and  her  head  sinking  in  shame,  "  you  are  a  phy- 
sician.    You  read  human  secrets — read  mine." 

"  We  are  all  weak  and  liable  to  err,"  he  said, 
with  manly  sympathy  in  every  word.  "  Some 
handsome  fellow,  I  suppose — and  you — a  woman. 
Well,  you  yielded.?" 

"  At  a  banquet  one  evening — a  cup  of  sher- 
bet— it  was  drugged — I  fell.  " 

"O  Worda!" 

"  Hut   I  was  to  blame.      I  was  even  glad  of  the 

sherbet.      My    mind  was  drugged,   too.       I   loved 

him.      He  swore  he  would  make  me  his  wife." 

124 


Near  the  Throne 


"But  now?" 

"  Now,  Marcel,  I  despise  him,  and  I  am  afraid 
of  him." 

The  confession  came  as  a  blow  to  Balzar.  His 
face  lit  up  with  anger.  This  frail  girl  had  been 
suffering  for  another's  evil-doing;  that  very  mo- 
ment a  vow  was  registered  by  the  young  swords- 
man that  he  would  remember  the  good  and  not 
forget  the  bad. 

Worda  raised  her  eyes  to  Marcel's. 

"  No,"  he  decided,  with  infinite  pity  and  tender- 
ness, "you  wrong  yourself.  You  did  not  fall. 
Like  many  another  girl  you  were  thrust  down." 

"O  Marcel,"  she  said,  "once  I  was  so  differ- 
ent—my soul  was  white.  But  now,  the  stains, 
the  blots  upon  my  heart.  Lost  to  all  the  joys  of 
innocence,  I  am  an  outcast— despised " 

"Not  by  me,"  he  interrupted.  "And  not  by 
Nazira.      You  are  her  sister— and  mine." 

"Thank  you  for  that  word."  she  said,  meeting 
his  glance.     "  But  I  am  by  my  betrayer.  " 

"Who.?" 

"Murad." 

Balzar  w^as  filled  with  astonishment.  Then  in- 
dignation took  possession  of  him. 

"  It  was  the  Pasha,"  she  said. 

"Murad.?  "  he  repeated. 

"  He  is  so  wicked,"  she  continued— "he  is  the 
kind  of  man  that  some  women  love." 

'25 


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Near  the  Throne 

''But  not  you,  Worda;  not  you  any  more?  " 

"  No.  He  cast  me  off.  Then  I  reaHzed  the 
truth — the  cruel  truth,  Marcel :  I  was  his  play- 
thing for  an  hour.  Ah,  why  was  I  so  blind.-*  To 
think  of  it  makes  me  mad.  But  some  day  for  all 
his  treachery  he  will  pay  the  penalty!  " 

''Yes." 

"But  you  won't  kill  him,  Marcel.^  You're 
such  a  swordsman." 

Balzar's  answer  was  slow  and  firm: 

'■  He  shall  pay  the  penalty." 

"  But  Murad  could  not  have  succeeded  alone." 

"  Who  helped  him  ?     Who  drugged  the  sherbet  }** 

"  Osman. " 

"  Then,"  Marcel  replied,  "  Osman  shall  die  with 
this,"  tapping  the  poniard  concealed  in  the  desk. 

\\^orda  made  a  gesture  of  deprecation. 

"  It  would  be  but  justice,"  Captain  Balzar  con- 
tinued. And  his  heart  meant  death — for  it  was 
the  heart  of  a  soldier  of  France.  "  Count  on  me, 
I  shall  fulfil  that  trust — the  hour  my  duty  is  over 
to  Napoleon." 

*'  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  Nazira's  knight," 
she  answered. 

"  But  for  yourself,  Worda,"  he  resumed,  coming 

quickly    to    the   immediate    and    practical,    "  you 

should  return  to  your  home.      You  do  not  know 

how  Ali  and  Halima  love  you,  and  Nazira  is  so 

fond  of  you." 

126 


1^  i 


Near   the  Throne 


(( 


But  my  father- 


"  He  will  forgive." 

"  I  fear  not.      I  begged  him  to  let  me  remain- 
to  give  me  another  chance." 
"Yes.?" 

"But  he  refused." 

"  Refused  you  that,  Worda.?  " 

"  And  said  that  I  might  return  when  he  sent 
for  me— not  till  then,  that  if  I  came  unbidden,  he 
would  assert  his  rights  as  a  father— he  is  hard, 
strict,  severe,  knows  no  mercy— his  heart  is  'narble. 

But   I  should  not  say  these  things,  even  to  you 

for  he  is  my  father." 

"  I  shall  never  repeat  them." 

"  Not  even  to  Nazira?  "  she  c|uestioned. 

"No." 

"And  I  do  not  wish  her  nor  any  one  else  to 
know  that  you  iried  to  persuade  me  to  return 
home." 

"Worda,  not  a  syllable  of  this  interview  will 
ever  be  mentioned  by  me." 

"Not  even  to  Nazira.?" 

"  Not  even  to  her.  " 

"Never.?" 

"  Never,"  he  swore.      "  You  have  my  promise.  " 

"That's  all  I  want,"  she  responded  with  abso- 
lute confidence. 

"Agreed.     But   think   well — your  own  home  is 
where  you  should  go  now,"  he  said,  with  a  glance 

127 


i 


It 


i\ 


■  V.  , 

'1 1' ' 


Near   the   Throne 

and  ai\  inclination  of  the  head  in  its  direction, 
which  was  diagonally  across  the  way. 

"  I  have  gone  too  far  astray." 

"  Nazira  will  plead  for  you." 

**  I  have  no  desire  to  go." 

"Why  not?" 

"  l^ecaiise  I  should  always  be  conscious  of  the 
mark  of  sin — and  feel  the  scarlet  flush  of  fallen 
womanhood.  No,  no — I  cannot  go.  People 
would  hear  of  my  shame." 

"  No,  they  would  not,"  he  replied,  witli  convic- 
tion.    **  It  is  a  secret." 

"  They  would  call  me  a  courtezan.  I  could  not 
endure  their  glances — their  whispers." 

Hassan  and  Nazira  appeared  at  the  door.  They 
were  unseen  and  stopped  still  in  utter  dismay. 

The  music  of  lutes  came  floating  across  from 
their  own  house,  probably  it  was  Lucine  and  some 
of  the  slaves  playing  an  Egyptian  melody  that 
would  remind  a  modern  European  of  the  soft  plain- 
tive strains  of  '*  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer  " — just 
as  Balzar  with  all  the  persuasion  at  his  command, 
continued : 

"  Come,  Worda,  do — no  one  will  ever  know." 

"  He  lies  I  "  said  Hassan  with  terrible  earnest- 
ness, coming  forward  and  leading  Nazira  who  fol- 
lowed reluctantly — for  it  was  to  the  darkening  of 
her  soul  that  she  was  going. 

"My  father!"  exclaimed  Worda,  fearful  of  his 

128 


Near  the  Throne 

wrath  and  hastening  (luickly  j^ast  him  throu<]jh  the 
(luor  into  the  street.  If  he  had  only  known  the 
tragedy  for  vvhicli  these  tliree  words  often  stand — 
into  the  street  I 

Nazira  stood  motionless  as  a  statue  of  bion/.e, 


his 


the  only  sign  of  life  the  tears  in  her  wide  brown 
eyes. 

*'  Now  my  daughter,"  asked  the  father  address- 
ing her,  "  are  you  convinced.'*  " 

"  No,"  she  said — and  one  of  the  tears  dropped 
down  into  the  rose  that  was  still  in  her  gown. 
**  Perhaps  he  can  explain.      Give  him  a  chance." 

"  He  has  it  now,"  the  Copt  replied.  Then  turn- 
ing to  l^alzar  he  asked  :  "  Will  you  answer  me  ?  " 
9  129 


l.,;-N 


Near  the  Throne 


«<  \r. 


f  I    i 


:i; 


i;  J 


I'  ! 


••     i! 


ti  i' 


:.  t 


Not  a  word,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Speak,  Marcel,"  begged  Nazira. 

"  Silence  suits  guilt,"  said  Hassan  with  bitter- 
ness. 

"  Clear  yourself,"  she  pleaded. 

"  Impossible,"  retorted  her  father,  resenting  the 
conscious  power  of  the  man  who  met  his  rage 
with  calmness. 

"  I  can  not  believe  what  they  say  of  you,"  cried 
Xazira. 

"  Was  this  not  proof  enough .' "  demanded 
Hassan. 

Hut  to  the  inference  of  the  question  and  the 
gesture,  Balzar  said  only  with  firmness: 

"  You  make  no  charge.      How  can  I  reply.''  " 

"  Was  theie  no  evidence  in  what  I  saw }  " 
A  one. 

"  Did  I  not  come  in  just  as  you  were " 

"  Xo  !  "  15alzar  would  not  permit  him  to  finish 
that  sentence.      "  Hy  my  faith  in " 

"Oh,  spare  your  faith." 

"  There  was  nothing  that  should  not  be." 

"Because  I  prevented  it,"  said  the  father,  be- 
coming more  irate.  "  l^ut  this  note  to  Worda," 
producing  it,  "asking  her  to  meet  you  here  today. 
It  was  intercepted."  And  he  handed  the  paper 
to  Nazira  that  she  might  see  the  proof  of  her 
lover's  despicable  falseness. 

Nazira 's  hands  trembled  as  she  read  the  abom- 

130 


Near  the  Throne 


1  bitter- 
ting  the 
i  -'»   rage 

cried 
nianded 
md  the 


? 


finish 


ir,  be- 
orda," 
today, 
paper 
)f  her 

ibom- 


i 


4 


inable  message  and  she  handed  it  quickly  back  to 
her  father  as  if  it  were  an  unclean  thing. 

Hassan  gave  it  to  lialzar. 

"It's  a  forgery ! "  the  Captain  exclaimed  as 
soon  as  he  had  glanced  at  it — and  then  he  tore  it 
up. 

"How  you  lie!  When  you  know  it  was  you 
who      — " 

"  Of  what  do  you  accuse  me?  " 

"You  ruined  Worda." 

"Stop!" 

"  How  dare  you  deny  it?  " 

"  Stop,  I  say  !  " 

"  You  know  you  did  !  " 

"  Oh,  you — unsay  that — or,"  advancing  and 
drawing  his  sabre  on  the  swift  impulse  of  his 
heated  blood,  "  I'll — damn  you,  I'll " 

Nazira  clung  closely  to  her  father. 

This  caused  but  a  moment's  delay,  but  in  it  a 
wave  of  self-control  swept  over  l^alzar. 

"  Ah  I "  he  said,  throwing  hir.  sword  on  the 
floor,  "  I  forgot  your  age  and  the  presence  of  a 
woman." 

"  Monsieur  Balzar,"  said  Hassan  with  cold  de- 
liberation, "  my  daughter  Nazira  was  betrothed 
to  you.  She  is  no  more.  From  this  hour  I  for- 
bid her  to  see  or  speak  to  you." 

The  two  Copts  started  for  the  door. 

"  O  father — I "  sobbed  Nazira,  leaning  on 

131 


w 


Near   the  Throne 


■m  I 


her  father's  arm  and  taking  the  rose  from  its  fasten- 
ing in  her  gown  and  the  ring  from  its  place  on  her 
finger  and  putting  it  among  the  petals — while  the 
music  from  the  lutes  still  came  floating  in. 

"Come,  my  daughter!"   commanded  Hassan.    ' 


t  .-:' 


I    t 

J 

I    ' 

!  1 


,1  ; 


:i:J 


I  : 


5 


Recovering  slightly  her  self-possession  and 
brushing  away  her  tears  she  said,  dropping  the 
flower : 

"The  summer  of  my  life  has  ended — the  winter 
has  begun." 

Marcel  answered,  and  his  soul  was  in  his  voice: 

"Good-bye,  Nazira,  good-bye." 

Has.san  led  his  daughter  out. 

132 


I 


fasten- 
I  on  her 
lile  the 


ssan. 


Near  the  Throne 

"Good-bye,"  repeated  Marcel  going  after  her 
to  the  door. 

But  the  Egyptian  girl  did  not  look  behind. 

Stooping  low,  Marcel  knelt  down  and  picked  up 
the  flower.  The  sword  was  lying  at  his  feet. 
Picking  it  up  too,  he  sank  into  a  chair  near  by, 
grasped  the  weapon  more  tightly  -and  a  vow  was 
on  his  tongue  and  in  his  will.  The  music  ceased. 
In  bitter  realization  that  his  love  had  gone  from 
him  to  the  home  of  her  relentless  father,  Balzar 
said  again : 

"Good-bye — sweetheart." 

And  perhaps  he  prayed  that  the  kiss  his  lips  hid 
among  the  petals  of  the  rose  might  find  its  way  to 
the  heart  of  Nazira. 


in 


i    and 
g  the 

vinter 


i 


^oice : 


SECOND  intp:rlogue 


THREE    WEEKS    HAVE    ELAPSED 


4 


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J 
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ii 


t 


To  die  and  part 
Is  a  less  evil — but  to  part  and  live, 
There,  there's  the  torment. 

— Lord  Lansdowne. 

Some  men  there  are — and  women  too — who 
exist  for  eighty  years  and  never  live  for  one. 
They  are  the  dullards  of  the  earth  who  merely 
vegetate.  But  others  have  hearts  that  live  months 
in  minutes  and  breathe  a  soul  into  every  passion. 
They  are  the  conquerors  who  keep  aflame  the  love 
that  makes  the  world  go  round.  And  the  revolu- 
tions it  describes,  forced  along  by  this  fierce  heat, 
whirling  like  a  great  wheel  of  fortiMie!  Many 
clinging  to  it  and  hoping  to  be  lifted  {'.;  happiness 
are  dished  to  an  abyss  of  misery.  A  few  who  are 
always  ready  and  upon  whom  the  capricious  god- 
dess looks  with  smiling  favour  are  borne  on  serenely 
and  raised  to  their  own  elysium.  But  even  para- 
dise has  its  gates ;  and  the  dwellers  there  are  not 
prisoners :  at  any  time  they  may  pass  out  of  their 
own  free  will,  or  at  the  instigation  of  some  fiend 
may  be  hurled  in  disgrace  away  from  the  music 

^34 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


and  light  into  outer  darkness.  Three  weeks  is  a 
short  period  in  all  realms  except  that  ruled  by  the 
sprite  with  a  bow  and  arrow,  for  to  a  lover,  espe- 
cially to  one  like  Marcel  Balzar  with  a  nature  so 
deep  and  so  intense,  who  is  in  love  with  such  a 
superb  and  fascinating  an  example  of  womanhood 
as  Nazira,  it  seems  an  seon,  and  like  paying  for  the 
moments  of  heaven  in  centuries  of  hell. 


* 


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TO   GAIN   AN   EMPIRE 


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CHAPTER    I 


i 


THE    BASTILLE    OF    EGYPT 

A  paved  terrace  on  the  western  bank  of  the 
Nile  in  front  of  the  Palace  of  Saladin— now  owned 

by  Murad. 

Along  the  edge  of  the  river,  whose  waters  flowed 
several  feet  below,  a  massive  stone  embankment 
running  not  quite  breast  high. 

In  the  parapet  through  a  movable  slab  that 
swung  heavily  on  an  iron  pivot,  its  existence 
known  only  to  the  sentries  beside  the  astrologer 
and  the  Pasha,  a  passage  leading  to  the  secret 
dungeons— the  Bastille  of  Egypt. 

A  wide  flight  of  white  marble  steps,  over  which 
had  passed  many  a  prince  never  to  return,  ascend- 
ing  to  the  imposing  entrance  of  the  Palace,  re- 
nowned as  well  for  its  machinations  as  for  that 
vast  hall  in  which  were  treasured  so  many  relics 
of  the  pristine  glory  of  the  land  of  Isis. 

The  magnificent  portico  supported  by  columns 
of  rose  granite  once  in  the  ancient  temples  of 
Memphis  and  carved  with  strange  symbols  of  the 

Pharaohs. 

Osman  was  coming  down  the  steps.      He  reached 

139 


m 

H 

\. 


ila 


Near  the  Throne 


1 


t      ■  i!    '• 


i   i 


.II* 

ill! 


f  i : 

I 


, 


the  last  but  two,  and  paused  a  moment  in  admira- 
tion of  the  violet  beauty  of  tlie  twilight  and  the 
splendour  of  the  eastern  sky. 

"  My  mother  used  to  say,"  he  mused,  "  that 
when  so  many  myriad  stars  shine  so  brightly  they 

portend  some  tragedy.  " 

A  noise  a  short  dis- 
tance down  the  embank- 
ment attracted  his  atten- 
tion. 

He  stopped  to  listen. 
It  was  the  rattle  of  chains. 
A  sinister  smile  that  was 
half  prophetic  came  over 
the  old  man's  features  as 
coming  down  another  step 
he  remarked  :  "  The  old 
saying  may  prove  true 
tonight. " 

And  the  chains  rattled 
again. 

The  sentence  had  scarcely  dropped  from  his  lips 
when  Sebah  and  Fuad,  the  two  most  trusted  of 
Murad's  former  Mamelukes,  appeared  with  a  wo- 
man, whose  wrists  were  securely  fastened  in  irons 
unnecessarily  heavy,  and  whom  they  were  roughly 
dragging,  unmindful  of  her  struggles  or  her 
cries. 

"  Have  mercy!  "   she  begged  of  them. 

140 


I!'  I       \ 


Near  the  Throne 


On  going  nearer,  Osman  noticed  that  the  pris- 
oner was  Madame  Henri  Balzar,  the  mother  of 
Marcel.  The  two  minions  had  succeeded  in  their 
mission.  But  he  did  not  observe  a  lithe  figure 
slinking  in  the  shadows  close  to  the  stone  wall 
and  watching  all  that  was  happening— the  figure 
of  Worda.  She  could  see  only  indistinctly,  but 
this  was  as  near  as  she  could  safely  venture. 

"I  have  done  no  wrong,"  the  wretched  lady 
cried.      "Pity  me!" 

"  Come  on !  "  said  Sebah,  holding  the  chain  and 
giving  her  a  pull  forward  with  his  brutal  hands. 

"  Come  on! " 

Her  appealing  to  them  was  like  throwing  roses 
to  monkeys,  for  the  cruelty  of  a  Turk  is  to  be  pre 
ferred  to  the  clemency  of  an  Arab. 

"To  the  secret  prison!"  directed  Osman, 
touching  the  spring  and  pushing  the  slab  around 
on  its  rusty  pivot:. 

Sebah  went  down  first,  leading  Madame  Balzar, 
followed  by  Fuad  and  Osman.  The  astrologer 
shut  the  slab  after  them,  saying  as  he  did  so : 

"The  stars  made  no  mistake  to-night." 

From   the   inside   he  shook   it   to  see  that  the 

spring  had  caught. 

The  rattle  made  the  figure  in  the  shadows  start 
back  a  step,  but  kept  her  eyes  riveted  on  the  stone 
that  swung.  It  seemed  that  one  of  the  three  was 
about  to  return.     She  waited  a  moment.      But  evi- 

141 


Near  the  Throne 


i.; 


!■ 


\M 


ii:. 


I  ;i 


if 


dently  it  was  merely  to  make  certain  that  the  fast- 
ening was  secure. 

Worda  ran  quickly  to  the  place  of  the  opening 
in  the  parapet.  It  would  be  so  easy  to  forget 
which  stone  it  was :  and  one  might  search  for  a 
long  time  without  making  any  discovery,  so  per- 
fect was  the  joining  in  the  masonry. 

"A  French  woman,"  she  said  beneath  her 
breath.  "  Marcel  must  know  of  this.  The  secret 
prison.     How  shall  I  tell  him  which  slab.**  " 

She  was  about  to  mark  it,  but  reflected  that 
Murad  or  one  of  his  sentries  might  see  it  in  the 
mean  time,  immediately  make  a  surmise  and  an 
erasure — then  wait  for  the  person  who  dared  to 
know  their  secret.  And  Worda  was  well  aware  that 
this  would  inevitably  lead  to  the  death  of  the 
wrong  man.  Therefore  she  began  to  count  the 
blocks  in  the  wall  to  the  right  of  the  opening : 
"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five — the  fifth  slab — 
counting  from — I  must  mark  it."  She  looked 
cautiously  about  to  see  that  no  one  was  watching, 
then  tried  her  ring.  It  only  made  an  impercepti- 
ble scratch.  "No  use,"  she  concluded,  without 
wasting  more  time.  **  The  eyebrow  pencil  Tin- 
ette  bought  from  the  pedlar,"  she  bethought  her- 
self, taking  it  from  her  pocket  and  trying  it. 
"Too  black,"  she  decided,  smudging  the  mark 
over  the  stone  with  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

A  footstep  sounded. 

142 


kil 


Near   the  Throne 


I 


"The  henna,"  said  VVorda  without  losing  an- 
other second,  and  making  a  yellow  cross  from  her 
finger  tip  on  the  stone.  The  eastern  custom  of 
staining  the  nails  is  not  altogether  devoid  of  prac- 
tical uses  in  emergencies.  Slinking  into  the 
shadow  again  and  keeping  close  to  the  wall,  the 
girl  disappeared  just  as  the  spring  of  the  slab 
clicked  and  Osman  came  up  from  the  passage 
with  Sebah  and  Fuad  close  behind  him. 

"  Be  careful  of  the  keys,"  the  old  man  warned 

them. 

They  saluted  in  answer  and  walked  away  be- 
tween the  wall  of  the  river  and  the   steps  of  the 

Palace  ' 

''A  great  stroke  of  policy,"  mused  Osman,  ob- 
serving a  small  crowd  of  people  coming  from  the 
direction  opposite  to  that  the  two  soldiers  had 
taken— "  a  feast  for  the  populace." 

The  old  astrologer  laughed  quietly  and  waited. 
But  Murad's  was  not  the  only  plot  afoot  that 
night  in  front  of  the  Palace  of  Saladin. 


CHAPTER    II 


THE    BEGGAR    AND    THE    KEYS 


■M 


■ii 

'I     ,1'. 


Ii! 


m 

:1  '  :) 


l.( 


As  the  people  came  nearer  and  the  Bey  saw 
who  they  were,  he  stood  aside  to  watch  them  pass 
and  to  listen  to  their  conversation,  that  he  might 
observe  if  there  were  any  straws  in  it  indicating 
the  direction  of  the  wind.  Th  ''  were  a  number 
of  guests  coming  to  the  ba  ^t  upon  which 
Murad  counted  so  heavily  for  the  increase  of  his 
popularity. 

Mademoiselle  Fleury  was  walking  between 
Monsieur    Taschereau     and    Monsieur    Carmier. 

Plutarque  said  to  her : 

"  There  is  a  rumour " 

*'  I  know,"  she  broke  in,  laughing  vivaciously, 
and  looking  archly  from  one  to  the  other;  "that 
I'm  going  to  the  bad." 

"  P-p-precisely." 

"  I  started  it  myself." 

Both  gentlemen  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  I  want  to  be  adored,"  she  added  in  explana- 
tion and  went  ahead  a  little  to  join  some  friends 
who  were  already  on  the  steps. 

144 


/^ 


Near  the  Throne 


"Now,"  said  the  faultless  youth  adjusting  his 
monocle  and  staring  after  her,  ''th-there's  some- 
thing that  ought  to  be  1-1-looked  after." 

Mademoiselle  Tinette  glanced  bacV  over  her 
shoulder  as  if  she  knew  it,  then  entered  the  i'alace. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  a  good  time  at  this  feast 
tonight,"  remarked  Monsieur  Plutarque  Tascher- 
eau  in  a  chummy  and  confidential  manner. 

"  Your  wvv-wife  coming  ?  "   Carmier  asked. 

The  man  of  many  trades  looked  at  him  a 
moment,  wondering  if  the  Gascon  were  really  to 
blame  or  his  parents.  Then  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  clinches  a.i  argument,  he  said: 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  I  expect  to  have  a  good 

time?  " 

"  I  say,  Taschereau,  are  you  r-really  married.?  " 

"  Married  ?  Me  married  !" 

This  exclamation  came  with  such  a  patronizing 
gesture  that  the  blond  Alphonse  was  in  doubt 
whether  his  friend  meant  to  say  that  of  course  he 
was,  or  that  the  idea  was  too  absurd. 

l^ut  to  relieve  the  stutterer's  uncertainty  Plu- 
tarque added  : 

"  I  take  a  bird's  eye  view  of  matrimony. " 

Monsieur  Carmier  was  not  much  enlightened  by 
this  confession,   therefore  he  inquired:   "What's 

that.?" 

"  Look   down    on  it,"  was    the    prompt   reply. 

"Married!      Am    I  baldheaded?       Have    I    that 

lo  145 


I  i 


/^ 


:\i 


Near  the  Throne 


4 


I' 


.  ,1 


tired  look?  Are  all  the  buttons  off  my  shirt? 
Me  married?  What's  the  use  of  having  a  wife 
when  you  can  have  worry  without  one?  " 

"  P-p-precisely,"  Carmier  agreed.  *'Th-that's 
a  c-clever  idea!     But ■" 

"I'll  tell  you  a  secret,"  put  in  the  genial  phi- 
losopher, rs  if  he  were  the  speaker  who  had  not 
been  permitted  to  finish  his  sentence.  "  My 
wife " 

Carmier  grasped  him  by  the  hands  and  shook 
them  warmly.  ''  Then  you're  not  a  b-b-bachelor  ?  " 
he  said  evidently  pleased  to  hear  it — though 
Monsieur  Taschereau  had  never  done  him  any 
harm. 

*'  No,"  was  the  satisfying  answer. 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  Don't  know.      I'm  a  widower." 

The  truth  was  that  Monsieur  Carmier  was  look- 
ing for  a  sympathizer,  but  he  might  have  con- 
cluded that  interrogation  in  this  quarter  would 
not  end  his  quest.  Evidently  he  caught  sight  of 
Mademoiselle  Fleury,  for  without  another  remark 
he  left  his  companion  and  hastened  up  the  steps 
and  in  among  the  gay  and  colo  (red  lights  of  the 
Palace. 

Plutarque  Taschereau  was  not  left  long  alone. 
Another  and  larger  group  of  guests  came  up  im- 
mediately.     Among  them  were   Hassan  and  his 

daughter.      Near  them  a  lame  beggar  hobbled; 

146 


I 


I 


Near  tlie  Throne 


shirt  ? 
L  wife 

that's 

il  phi- 
id  not 
"My 

shook 
ilor?  " 
hough 
ri   any 


s  look- 
e  con- 
would 
ight  of 
remark 
e  steps 
of  the 

:  alone, 
up  im- 
.nd  his 
)hbled ; 


his  back  was  stooped  with  the  misfortunes  and 
hardships  of  many  years,  so  that  you  could  see 
less  of  his  face  or  whatever  of  it  was  not  hidden 
beneath  his  long  white  beard,  than  of  his  hair 
which  was  snowy  and  combed  in  spite  of  his 
mendicancy.  As  Nazira  walked  across  the  pave- 
ment with  her  father,  she  dropped  a  small  coin 
into  the  beggar's  uplifted  palm.  As  if  in  deep 
gratitude  for  her  kindness  the  old  man  tried  to 
kiss  her  hand.  She  allowed  it— he  was  so  old  and 
I  was  clean.      He  barely  touched  her  delicate  skin 

with  his  lips  but  as  he  withdrew  she  felt  where 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  were  a  piece  of  paper  pressed 
against  her  hand.  Instinctively  she  closed  her 
hold  upon  it,  then  Osman  came  up  and  spoke  to 
her  father.  It  was  a  note.  The  two  men  engaged 
in  conversation.  She  took  this  opportunity  to 
turn  aside  and  re-d  it.  The  writing  was  scarcely 
decipherable— it  faltered  so  unevenly  from  the 
trembling  pen  of  the  lame  beggar.  If  Nazira  had 
only  known  with  what  it  trembled!  But  she 
managed  to  make  out  the  words : 

"  I  can  tell  you  of  some  one  of  whom  you  might 
like  to  hear.  He  sends  a  message  by  me.  Come 
out  soon  from  the  Palace." 

She  quickly  slipped  the  note  away  as  her  father 
and  Murad  came  up. 

"You  heard  the  betrothal  is  ended.?"  said 
Hassan,  as  if  the  remark  were  a  preliminary  step, 

147 


rn 


Near  the  Throne 


I? 

•i.r 


■  t 
''  it 


lit 


and  not  noticing  that  the  beggar  was  listening 
with  an  eager  carelessness. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Pasha. 

"  You  remember  you  promised  me  that  letter?  " 

'*  I  sent  it  to  you." 

**  You  sent  it  to  me?  " 

"  By  Captain  Balzar.  He  has  been  acting  as 
my  aide." 

The  falsehood  slipped  easily  and  gracefully  from 
his  lips.  Surely  Allah  must  love  a  prevaricator 
so  adroit  and  so  cheerful !  Then  there  is  always 
something  artistic  about  a  good  honest  liar.  Fab- 
rication is  the  link  between  the  Orient  and  the 
Occident. 

**  I  have  not  received  the  letter  yet,"  the  mer- 
chant replied. 

"The  Frenchman  must  have  ojiened  it." 

"  And  to  avenge  himself — — " 

"  Sent  the  document  to  Bonaparte,"  added 
Murad. 

"  Poor  Orde,"  whined  the  beggar  who  was  right 
beside  them.  "  Poor  deaf  Orde  liafid — so  hungry, 
poor  Mafid — deaf.  " 

"Get  out  of  the  way,"  said  Osman  brusquely 
coming  up  and  seizing  the  crip})le  by  the  should- 
ers, shoving  him  roughly  to  one  side  as  the  three 
Egyptians  engaged  in  a  subdued  but  animated 
conversation. 

That  piece  of   brutality   was   nearly  being  the 

148 


Near  the  Throne 


? " 


d 


astrologer's  last.  The  beggar  suddenly  straight- 
ened himself  up  to  his  full  height,  at  once  lost  all 
his  lameness,  quickly  drew  something  shining  and 
sharp  from  his  belt;  but  the  next  second  Marcel 
checked  this  impulse  of  resentment  and  shrank 
back  again  to  the  dimensions 
of  the  deformed  pauper — just 
in  time,  for  Osman  glanced 
around.  And  the  hour  was 
not  yet. 

Putting  the  poniard  back 
in  its  sheath,  his  features  hard 
set  and  his  steel  gray  eyes 
glistening,  Marcel  said  to 
himself: 

"  I  have  a  great  trust  to 
fulfil." 

And  he  watched  Xazira 
and  her  father  enter  the 
Palace  with  M  u  r  a  d  ,  and 
saw  her  look  back  at  him. 

"  Here  !  "  said  the  old  trickster,  assuming  a  gen- 
erosity which  he  did  not  possess  and  tossing  a 
coin.      '*'  Poor  fellow  !  " 

Orde  Hafid  hobbled  toward  it  with  some  fears 
as  to  whether  his  disguise  had  been  discovered. 

"lieuh!"  said  Osman  beneath  his  breath,  as- 
cending the  stairs  and  smiling  as  the  cripple  picked 
up  the  piece  of  counterfeit  money.      "  I've  got  rid 

149 


Jit 


Near  the  Throne 


i!  '1  ', 


:!; 


.1: 


1 


f 


of  that ! "  Then  to  the  beggar  who  bowed  in 
mock  gratitude  he  added :  '*  Now  be  off  —  or 
else— the  Nile!" 

He  too  went  into  the  Palace, 

"  For  your  master  1 "  added  Captain  Balzar, 
with  determined  emphasis  and  looking  after  the  Bey 
until  the  massive  doors  were  closed  by  the  Arabian 
servitors.  Then  flicking  the  coin  into  the  river 
he  went  on  :  "  Murad,  that's  where  you're  going !  " 

Monsieur  Taschereau,  who  had  been  quietly 
watching  his  chance,  came  up  at  this  moment  to 
Orde  Hafid's  double. 

"  A  woman  taken  to  the  secret  dungeons," 
whispered  Balzar  to  him  hurriedly—  "  the  fifth 
slab,  counting  in  a  straight  line  from  a  yellow 
cross  on  a  stone  in  the  river  wall?  Was  that 
what  you  told  me  ?  " 

''That's  it,"  answered  Plutarque,  as  they  found 
the  mark  and  followed  the  very  explicit  directions 
to  the  opening. 

"  A  Frenchwoman  ?  " 

*'  So  said  Worda.      She  was  looking  for  you." 

**  What  cell  .-*  "  inquired  Balzar,  feeling  for  the 
spring. 

Taschereau  shook  his  head. 

"  What  cell  ?  "  the  Captain  asked  again. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Plutarque. 

"What  cell?"  Marcel  repeated  in  a  hesitating 
way,  pushing  the  stone  around  on  its  pivot.      He 

150 


* 


r, 
ft 
\ 


Near  the  Throne 


>» 


thought  a  moment.  Then,  as  if  a  light  dawned 
upon  his  mind,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Cell  thirty  one!  " 

Taschereau  looked  the  wonderment  that  he 
would  have  denied.  How  did  it  happen  that  the 
surgeon  was  so  omniscient  ? 

**  Parrots  are  useful,"  admitted  Captain  Balzar. 

The  observation  was  enough  for  the  quick 
penetration  of  the  old  journalist.  The  possibilities 
of  the  green  bird  before  which  Murad  and  Osman 
had  been  talking  immediately  occurred  to  the  wit 
of  the  Latin  Quarter.  Besides,  was  he  not  him- 
self  fond  of  all  things  green  :  the  green  grass,  the 
green  fields,  and  the  green  Chartreuse  ^ 

"  Dangerous ! "  Marcel  acknowledged,  as  he 
peered  into  the  darkness  of  the  passage  through 
which  big  rats  were  scampering  and  stepped 
down — "  but  everything  worth  doing  is  dangerous. 
Watch." 

The  order  was  obeyed  wisely.  Monsieur 
Taschereau  walked  a  ffvV  steps  toward  the  Palace, 
listened  carefully  for  the  slightest  sound  of  any 
one  coming,  kept  one  eye  on  the  narrow  parade  to 
the  east  between  the  wall,  and  the  other  on  the 
black  distance  to  the  north.  iM-om  the  opening 
he  could  just  distinguish  a  faint  noise — it  was 
Balzar  hammering  on  the  iron  doors  below.  Then 
he  thought  he  heard  a  footstep  approaching — per- 
haps one  of  the  sentries.      He  ran  to  the  opening 

of  the  passage. 

151 


:  'S\ 


'9 


Near  the  Throne 


i 

!r 

'r 

, 

•fi 

1 

"  i, 

i    1 

:i 

\\i 

1 . 

1 . 

.!   i 

i   4 

:' 

\: 

■"  |1 

t , 

;;• 

f  i 
i . 

I 


:}>  - 


i  i 


"  Monsieur  I  "  he  shouted. 

No  answer  came — nothing  but  the  hammering. 

"Monsieur!"  he  shouted  the  second  time  and 
more  loudly. 

In  less  than  a  minute  Balzar  was  up  and  out, 

"The  door  is  fastened,"  he  said,  clicking  the 
lock.     "  I  must  get  the  keys." 

The  warning  was  given  none  too  soon,  for  the 
quick  limbed  Taschereau  had  barely  time  to  dis- 
appear by  the  friendly  aid  of  the  shadows  which 
the  moonlight  fortunately  made  more  dense,  when 
Murad  and  Osman  came  out  from  the  Palace. 

Balzar,  still  thinking  of  the  woman  in  the 
secret  dungeons  and  of  the  impregnable  iron  of 
the  thick  doors  below,  said  again  to  himself  as  if 
repetition  would  smooth  away  the  impossible  and 
enable  him  to  think  of  a  plan  of  action : 

"  I  must  get  the  keys." 


SI^S^^ 


CHAPTER    HI 


f 


A    WINGED    MESSENGER 

As  the  Pasha  and  the  astrologer  came  down 
the  steps  the  latter  said  with  a  questioning  glance  : 

«'  You  excused  yourself  from  the  banquet?  " 

"  By  urgent  work  of  state,"  answered  Murad, 
contracting  his  brows  and  placing  his  forefinger  to 
his  'ips  so  that  his  countenance  assumed  an  ex- 
pression of  malign  subtlety-"  for  a  short  time." 

"  I  have  been  considering  the  question  we  were 

speaking  of." 

•'  And  your  conclusion  ?  " 

Neither   noticed  how    intently  the    lame   mute 

was  listening. 

*'  The  best  thing  to  do  now  is  to  massacre  every 

p>enchman  in  Cairo." 

-  You'i  e  a  statesman.  Brands,  bayonets,  night— 
and  we're  rid  of  the  pests.  Every  Frenchman? 
By  Allah!  English,  Italians,  Germans  and  all. 
ni  kill  every  foreigner  in  Egypt !     The  massacre  s 

the  thing!"  .     ,        , 

Osman  was  wholly  gratified  with  this  hearty 
adoption  of  his  policy  and  was  eager  to  outline  his 
scheme  for  the  bloody  undertaking. 

153 


%'1 


Near  the  Throne 


1^ 

i 


ii 


^ 


I' 


h 


Pi  :' 


li.  i 


"That's  my  doctrine,"  he  repHed.  "Egypt  for 
the  Egyptians — to  the  crocodiles  with  the  rest!  " 

"  How  soon  can  it  be  done?  "  asked  Murad. 

"  One  week  hence." 

"Too  long." 

"  Let  me  see — three  days." 

"  One  day,"  said  the  Pasha,  being  himself  a 
man  of  quick  and  decisive  action. 

"  To  make  complete  arrangements  ?  Impossible. 
Give  me  two  days." 

"All  right,"  Murad  agreed.  "Within  forty- 
nine  hours  from  now."  Then  with  a  gesture  of 
caution  toward  Orde  Hafid,  he  added :  "  Beggars 
have  ears." 

"  Tie  up  the  bag  when  the  cat  is  out,"  muttered 
Balzar  with  grim  satisfaction. 

It  is  very  droll,  the  ease  with  which  an  honest 
man  may  dupe  a  consummate  rogue.  Bravery 
may  be  opposed  to  daring  and  defeat  the  boldest 
adventurer  in  open  combat,  but  knavery  must  often 
be  met  with  chicanery. 

"  A  man  will  never  tell  what  he  has  not  heard," 
answered  Osman,  as  they  went  up  the  steps  to 
the  Palace.  Both  were  conscious  of  their  clev^er- 
ness  and  power.  This  was  their  dangerous  weak- 
ness. 

"  What  about  these  Carthusian  monks  now  in 
Cairo  ?  "  asked  Osman. 

"  They  say  they've  never  been  out  of  their  cage 

154 


A 


Near  the  Throne 


, 


before.     They're  making    a    pilgrimage  to   Jeru- 

salem* 

"And    expect  the  protection  of    l^onaparte   in 

Palestine." 

"They're  harmless.     They  may  wander  about 
this  city,  but  not  one  of  them  shall  ever  leave  it." 

"  They  die  with  the  rest  ?  " 

"  Why  not?     There's  nothing  that  I  respect  in 

their  blood." 

"But  their  habit?" 

"  I'll  hang  them  all  with  their  own  girdles." 

As  the  two  Egyptians  disappeared,  VVorda  ap- 
proached cautiously  from  the  opposite  direction. 

"  I'm  rather  poor  myself,"  she  said,  going  up  to 
the  beggar,  "  but  I  think  I  have      — " 

"  Sh !  "  warned  Balzar,  as  she  recognized  him 
and   sounds    of  music   came  from  the   half-open 

doors. 

"Marcel!"     the  girl    exclaimed.       "What   are 

you  doing  in  that  disguise  ?  " 

"  Where  have  you  been  during  the  past  three 
weeks  ?  "  he  asked,  not  heeding  her  question.  "  I 
could  not  find  you  anywhere.  Keeping  my  promise 
to  you  ended  my  betrothal  to  Nazira." 

"  I  heard  of  it  only  today,  from  Lucine." 

"  I  would  have  broken  it,  had  I  got  the  chance." 

"You  tried?" 

"Yes." 

"How?" 

155 


». 


Near   the  Throne 


iis 


it  •■• 

3? 


^  ill 5 

;  3 


"  I  called  upon  Hassan,  lie  refused  to  see  me. 
I  wrote  Nazira  four  times.  Her  father  returned 
my  letter's  unopened.  lu-erythini;  I  sent  her  was 
returned  except  one :  a  little  faded  flower  she 
dropped  one  day — a  rose,  and  in  anion*;"  its  i)et- 
als — a  ring.      What  more  can  I  do.-*  " 

Worda  thou<;ht  quickly.  "  Leave  the  rest  to 
me,"  she  replied,  formini;  a  decision. 

**  Vou  will  do  it.'"  he  said,  understanding  her 
expression  and  divining  her  purpose.  "  Speak  to 
her  for  me."*  " 

"Tonight,"  she  answered. 

He  knew  Worda  always  meant  what  she  said 
and  did  what  she  promised  and  that  her  loyalty 
would  find  the  way.  She  was  aware  of  his  con- 
fidence ;  it  pleased  her  and  nerved  her. 

"I  wish,"  Marcel  went  on,  "you  would  do 
something  else  to  help  me." 

"What.?" 

"  Can  you  think  of  any  means  to  send  a  mes- 
sage to  Napoleon  ?  " 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"Near  Belbeis." 

She  smiled  and  took  the  glossy  breasted  pigeon 
out  from  beneath  her  robe.  "  My  little  j^-it  will 
take  it." 

"How.?" 

"  l^y  flying  there.      That  is  his  home." 

"An  Antwerp —the  best  carrier  pigeon  I  "   ex- 

156 


l!»  I 


II  ti 

11!    I 


Near  the  Throne 

claimed  the  Captain,  observip';\vith  a  fancier's  eye 
thie  well  defined  wattles  on  the  bird's  short  beak 
and  the  chocolate  bars  on  its  dun  win<^s,  noting;  at 
the  same  time  that  from  the  convexity  of  its  head 


ex- 


and  the  tapering  of  its  body  toward  the  tail  that 
it  was  of  the  true  Ik^lgian  breed  and  likely  to 
possess  keenness  of  sight,  strength  of  wing,  speed 

of  flight. 

**  The  pigeon  is  trained  to  fly  to  Bclbeis,"  Worda 

responded. 

"What  shall  I  write  the  note  on?  " 
"  It  must  be  very  light,"  she  admonished  him. 

157 


I  I 


t  i 


l?Hi 


•  ( 


'i> 


ti 


1  I 


i*      I 


Near  the  Throne 

Marcel  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  intending 
to  write  on  the  unused  side. 

"  (Ih,  that  will  never  do  !"  she  said.  "It's  too 
heavy !  " 

"  Some  cigarette  paper,"  he  suggested. 

"  Excellent !  " 

'*  But  there  are  no  pens  around." 

"  They  wouldn't  do  anyway. " 

"  You'd  scarcely  believe  how  vain  I  am,"  the 
young  Copt  said,  as  if  making  a  confession.  *'  I 
pencil  my  eyebrows  every  morning." 

The  Captain  naturally  wondered  a  moment  what 
this  little  matter  of  an  Egyptian  girl's  toilet  had 
to  do  with  the  present  problem. 

"  Here,"  she  added,  handing  him  the  tiny  pencil. 

"  The  very  thing,"  he  said. 

"  Be  qui'^^i!  "  she  urged,  fearing  one  of  the  sen- 
tries might  appear. 

Leaning  on  his  knee  the  surgeon  wrote  in  very 
small  characters: 

*'  Bonaparte :  Murad  has  usurped  everything — 
is  near  the  throne.  Come  quickly  and  prevent 
massacre.     Balzar." 

"  Let  me  tie  it  on,"  said  Worda. 

Both  simultaneously  went  into  their  pockets. 
The  search  was  futile. 

"  No  string,"  she  announced  in  a  tone  that 
asked  what  they  were  to  do  now. 

But  while  Balzar  was  jDuzzled  Worda  was  busy. 

158 


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Near  the  Throne 


in^ 


too 


the 
"I 


She  deftly  ripped  a  pretty  feminine  undergarment 
and  pulling  out  a  silk  thread  tied  the  message 
under  the  carrier's  wing. 

"  Is  it  secure?  "   inquired  the  Captain. 

"  Perfectly,"  she  assured  him,  giving  the  pigeon 
into  his  hands. 

"  Now  then — away !  " 

He  threw  the  bird  with  its  precious  despatch 
off  toward  the  north  so  as  to  avoid  the  sentinels 
who  might  be  around  the  Palace. 

They  watched  it  circle  until  its  flight  could  no 
longer  be  distinguished  in  the  twilight  that  had 
deepened  into  night. 

"  Look!  "  said  Marcel,  handing  his  companion  a 
miniature.  "Do  you  like  that  picture.'*  Xazira 
gave  it  me." 

Worda  stared  at  the  face  on  the  ivory  and  kiss- 
ing it  cried : 

"  My  mother !  " 

Marcel  Balzar,  with  his  physician's  knowledge 
that  all  women  are  sisters  beneath  the  skin,  could 
not  help  remarking  to  himself:  "There  is  often 
more  honest  worth  in  an  unfortunate  girl's  heart 
than  there  is  beneath  the  snowy  robes  of  saints." 

"  Marcel,"  said  Worda,  looking  up  and  pressing 
the  portrait  to  her  breast,  "you  have  won.  I  am 
going  home — for  her  sake. " 

As  she  started  off  Murad  walked  out  from  the 
Palace. 

159 


1 


Near   the  Throne 


1^ 


"'      i 


'  ( if  > 

"I 


!i: 


! 
i 


:t    !' 


"Worda!"   he  called. 

Not  observing    lum    and    kissing    the    picture 
again,  she  repeated  the  word:  "  Mother." 

Balzar,  quickly  perceiving  her  danger,  went  be- 
tween them  and  lifting  his  right  arm  to  a  position 

that  pretended  to  be  apolo- 
getic, but  was  really  protective 
and  threatening,  begginc:  ^H 
the  time,  prevented  Murad 
from  touching  her. 

The  instant  Worda  saw  the 
/  *^  ""^^JT'  Pasha  she  ran,  and  so  escaped. 
/rv'^i.A^  Murad  could  not  wisely  have 

followed,  even  had  he  wished, 
as  three  water  carriers  who 
had  been  invited  to  the  ban- 
c|uet  just  then  came  in  view. 

'■  Poor  Orde,"  begged  Bal- 
zar.  "  Poor  (^rde  liafid,  so 
deaf  and  lame." 

The  guests  went  into  the 
Palace.  Aiurad  v/alked  off  slowly  on  the  parade 
between  the  buildinic  and  the  wall  of  the  river. 

l^alzar  hobbled  after  him  as  far  as  the  marble 
steps.  As  the  soft  sensuous  strains  of  an  P^gyp- 
tian  love  song  floated  from  the  Palace  of  Saladin, 
he  saw  coming  out  the  door  the  woman  he  had 
been   waiting  for  all   the  evening,  who  was   more 

to  him  than  life — Xazira. 

i6o 


ciiapti^:r  IV 


THi:  dksikp:  of  thI':  heart 


Intently  watching  Nazira  slowly  descend  ti  o 
steps,  ( )rde  Mafid  hobbled  up,  anxious  yet  d  ead- 
ing  to  speak  lest  his  voice  or  the  glance  of  his 
eyes  might  betray  him  too  soon  to  her  who  knew 
both  so  well. 

"  Vou  gave  me  this  note?  "  she  said,  very  close 
to  his  ear  so  as  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  speaking 
loudly. 

I  le  bowed  assent. 

"  You  have  a  message  for  me.^  " 

"Yes,"   he  answered,   keeping  his    face  down- 
ward as  if  his  back  were  bent  very  much,  and  as 
fuming  the  feeble  tones  of  the  beggar  from  India. 

"  rVom  whom  .''  " 

'*  From  Marcel  Balzar.  " 

**  What  is  it.'  "  she  asked,  forgetting  to  restrain 
her  eager  lie  ss. 

His  head  lifted  involuntarily  as  if  to  reply. 
That  was  the  movement  he  should  have  controlled. 

"  Ah  !  "  »he  exclaimed  staring  at  him.  "  You  are 
not  Orde  llafid.  the  deaf  beggar.      You  are " 

"  Sh '  "   he   said,  remo\-ing  the   beai-d   from   his 
chin  and  straightening  hims'jlf  to  his  full  height. 
IX  1 6  J 


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Near  the  Throne 


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^!| 


'I  '' 


1 
If 

I! 


"  Why  have  you  clone  this  ?  "   she  demanded. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you,  Nazira,  and  could  not." 

"  Because  you  should  not." 

"  I  longed  for  a  sight  of  your  face,"  he  an- 
swered, "for  the  sound  of  your  voice,  the  caress 
of  your  arms — so  often  I  have  felt  upon  my  own 
the  sweet  touch  of  your  lips  and  your  eyes  are 
always  looking  into  mine." 

She  started  to  leave  him  and  return  to  the 
Palace,  realizing  not  only  her  revulsion  at  meeting 
this  man  again  and  her  duty  to  her  father,  but  the 
danger  she  was  in. 

"  Xazira,"  he  entreated.      "  Listen  to  me." 

"'  I  must  not,"  she  replied  with  decision. 
"  Your  past  in  Paris.     Your  life  in  Cairo." 

''Well."  he  said,  waiting  for  the  inference  from 
these  phrases.  This  line  of  attack  was  certainly 
unexpected. 

"  Is  it  true.-*  "'  she  questioned  with  firmness  and 
fear  and  indignation  all  mingled  in  her  voice.  It 
is  strange  how  a  woman  will  argue  against  herself 
and  her  hopes. 

"Surely,"  he  responded,  "you  are  not  one  of 
those  who  believe  a  man  s  past  life  should  be 
immaculate!  " 

"And  a  man's  preseit.-*"  she  retorted. 
"  Worda — that  afternoon — my  father — your  re- 
fusal to  explain. 

"  Do  not  speak  («f  that." 

162 


!    i| 


.     — y 


Near   the  Throne 


an- 

ftress 

own 

are 


I 


"The  evidence  was  so  much  against  you." 

"  Evidence  !  "     he   repeated  with    astonishment 
on  every  feature. 
\  es. 

**  There  was  none." 

"  My  father  thought  there  was — so  did  I.  And 
you  did  not  even  try  to  clear  yourself." 

"  Clear  myself!" 

"  My  father  gave  you  the  chance." 

*'  There  was  nothing  to " 

''  Do  now." 

"Trust  me,  Nazira." 

"  No — that  will  not  satisfy  me. " 

*'  See  how  unreasonable  you  are." 

'*  Unreasonable.-^  " 

"  Could  I  not  easily  lie  to  you }  I  ask  only  one 
thing:  you  have  said  you  are  willing  to  believe 
in  my  word — believe  in  me." 

**  You  refuse  then?     Ke  it  so." 

"  Trust  mie — for  a  little  while." 

"Why  should  I?" 

"  For  the  sake  of  our  love." 

'*  The  past  is  dead." 

"  But  surely " 

"You  caa  la\  nothing  to  say  that  I  care  to 
hear. " 

"  Do  HBot  CUT  ne  off  like " 

Her  whole  body  made  a  gesture  of  intense  im- 
patience and  disgust. 

163 


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ici 
'■'•',' 


ii 

■■\U 
,:  i 

liii 


h 


>Mr 


"Then  I  deny  it,"  he  said — "it  was  not  true! 
There  was  nothing  between  Worda  and  myself 
that  was  wrong.     Now  are  you  content?  " 

"  No !  I  agree  with  you  :  you  could  easily  lie 
to  me.  I  believe  you,"  hesitating  and  looking 
earnestly  at  him — "guilty." 

After  a  moment  of  surprise  and  mental  darkness 
Balzar  took  her  wrist  and  answered  with  authority  : 

"No!" 

"This  is  the  end,"  Nazira  replied,  releasing 
herself  from  his  grasp. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  he  urged,  pleading  with  the 
Egyptian.  "  For  a  long  time  now  you  have  been 
my  hope.  As  we  walked  in  the  shadows  of  the 
old  pyramids  and  among  the  ruins  of  the  crum- 
bling palaces  my  soul  was  filled  with  you.  You 
have  been  my  guardian  spirit,  my  angel,  my  god- 
dess !  Your  image  made  my  breast  a  chaste 
tem])le — and  there  my  heart  has  worshipped  you. 
When  in  your  presence  and  listening  to  your 
voice  my  soul  seemed  lifted  up  as  if  on  music's 
wings.  When  you  smiled  upon  me  I  felt  it  sweet 
to  live,  to  love,  in  the  light  of  your  kindly  eyes — 
and  longed  to  call  you  my  own.  You  are  all  the 
world  to  me.  For  months  your  glance  has  been  a 
soft  chain — lam  your  slave,  and  you  my  queen ! 
O  Nazira,  be  my  bride — ^through  ail  our  days — 
till    death— forever.     l^^)r   F  love    vou  more  than 


i  'ill 


life  or  chity — or  God  ! 


64 


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'self 


jiess 


< 


i 


■'Surely,"  he  responded,  "you  are  not  one  of  those  who  believe  a 
man's  past  life  should  be  immaculate?" 


Near  the  Throne 


1^^ 
I?; 


0 


iM     K 


:  ' 


ill 


!' 


"  It  is  no  use  speaking  further,"  the  girl  replied 
looking  him  straight  in  the  face,  utterly  indiffer- 
ent to  his  prayer. 

''Yes,  Nazira." 

"  1  have  said  it  is  not.  Love  is  too  near  to  hate. 
There  was  a  time  when  you  could  do  anything  you 
wished  with  me.  But  you  can  never  win  me  back 
again.  This  is  false — like  all  you  have  said. 
And  I  hate  you!  " 

Balzar  answered  passionately  with  his  hands 
outstretched  beseechingly,  but  not  venturing  to 
touch  her : 

"You  do  not.  You  love  me  still,  Nazira — you 
do — you  do — you  love  me  now  !  " 

Their  eyes  met  squarely —such  an  unswerving 
piercing  look,  as  if  they  were  trying  to  search  each 
other's  souls.  Then  as  if  in  half  denial  of  the  last 
sentence  which  she  had  spoken  with  such  vehe- 
mence, the  girl's  eyelids  drooped  and  she  regarded 
him  with  a  strange  gaze  through  her  long  black 
lashes.  But  neither  moved  an  inch  either  forward 
or  backward. 

Finally  Nazira,  bowing  her  head,  said  slowly; 
and  there  was  fear  and  even  shame  in  her  tones : 

**  I  want  you.  Marcel,      In  spite  of  all  I  love  you — 

I  believe  in  you.      These  weeks  have  been  so  dreary 

without   you,  dear  one.      I  have  been   in   misery. 

At  night  I  waken  and  cry  out  for  you.      Why  do 

you  suppose  my  cheeks  are  pale  and  my  eyes  are 

i66 


I 


i 


Near  the  Throne 


lied 
Ser- 


iate, 
you 
)ack 

>aid. 


I 


i 


sunken?  Tt  is  because  my  whole  being  longs  for 
you,  my  heart's  life — and  you  have  been  away 
from  me.      Oh,  I  want  you,  for  my  husband  I  " 

"  Nazira !  "  exclaimed  Marcel  breathlessly  to 
her  and  starting  a  step,  l^ut  his  surprise  and 
perplexity  quickly  changed  to  resolution  before 
Nazira,  putting  her  arms  around  his  neck,  said  as 
he  kissed  her : 

"  It  is  true.  Marcel,  every  word,  every  word — 
my  Marcel!" 

All  the  repressed  intensity  of  her  nature  was 
poured  into  those  two  last  words — the  words  that 
Marcel  would  so  often  have  given  the  world  to 
hear.  As  he  put  his  arm  around  her  waist  she 
removed  it  and  said  : 

"But— I  cannot." 

"You  must,"  he  answered,  so  near  lo  her  and 
with  intense  fervour. 

Nazira  felt  again  what  numberless  times  she 
had  longed  in  vain  for:  his  warm  breath  upon  her 
cheek  and  the  sound  of  his  soft  pleading  voice, 
full  of  richer  music  to  her  ears  than  the  strains  of 
the  waltz  drifting  from  the  Palace. 

"You  know,"  she  reminded  him,  "the  author- 
ity parents  have  over  their  children  in  F'rance?" 

"  What  of  that  ?  " 

"It  is  greater  in  Egypt — it  is  absolute." 

"  Disobey  !  "  he  responded  in  mingled  supplica- 
tion and  command,  taking  her  tightly  in  his  arms. 

167 


ri'liir 


■       J8 
<  •  c  > 


:  : 


i 


I*' 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

"  It  is  impossible." 

"  We  are  our  own  law  !  "  he  urged. 

"My  love,"  she  answered  in  his  embrace  and 
twining  her  ai  irss  about  his  neck,  "  I  cannot — or 
see  you  any  more." 

Just  at  that  moment  Lucine  appeared  and  said 
excitedly : 

'*  Your  father  is  looking  all  over  for  you.  He  is 
coming." 

Balzar  instantly  slipped  on  his  beard  and  as- 
sumed the  attitude  of  the  decrepit  Orde  Hafid. 
Nazira  pointed  in  the  direction  opposite  the  Palace 
and  said : 

"Quickly!" 

Lifting  her  hand  to  his  lips,  Marcel  responded : 

"We  shall  meet  again — my  wife!  " 

Then  he  hobbled  into  the  darkness. 

Hassan,  coming  down  the  steps  in  a  few 
seconds,  demanded  of  his  daughter : 

"  W^here  have  you  been.^  " 

"Taking  the  air,  father." 

"With  me,"  added  Lucine. 

Nazira  pressed  the  maid's  hand  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  favour  and  said  with  a  shrug  of  her 
shoulders : 

"  It  was  so  oppressive  inside."  Then  she  con- 
tinued lightly,  "  Come,  Lucine — to  the  music. 
Will  you  give  me  your  arm,  father.^" 

Hassan  took  them  in  just  in  time  to  miss  see- 

i68 


i 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

ing  Murad  and  Osman.  But  the  merchant  had 
noticed  the  absence  of  the  two  conspirators,  and 
wondered  if  it  meant  a  pistol  or  the  river,  whether 
the  night  would  end  with  a  shot  or  a  splash— and 
who  was  destined  to  be  the  man. 


ill 


few 


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i 


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CIIAPTICR    V 


THE    PRISONER    AND    THE    CHOICE 


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I! 


;   I'    I 


"  I  want  my  throne  to  be  founded,"  said  Murad 
as  he  and  his  companion  stopped  a  few  paces  from 
the  opening  to  the  secret  passage,  "  on  the  good 
will  of  all  Egyptians." 

"  Philanth    -py  or  patriotism  ?  " 

"Neither.      Policy." 

"  A  wise  precaution.  " 

"  There  are  many  not  at  the  feast  who  should 
be  here." 

"True." 

**  Send  for  them,  Osman." 

"Fuad.?" 

"  No.     One  of  themselves. " 

"Who.'*"  Immediately  catching  sight  of  the 
beggar  he  added  :   "  Orde  Hafid  ?  " 

"  He  will  do,"  answered  Murad. 

"  It  looks  as  if  it  were  time  to  go,"  thought  Cap- 
tain Balzar,  starting  off  slowly  and  not  observing 
the  approach  of  Taschereau  down  the  steps. 

"  Invite  the  people,"   proceeded   Murad,  which 

continuance  of  the  discussion  gave  the  strategic 

170 


!r   I 


f 


urad 
from 
good 


oil  Id 


the 


Cap- 
ving 

hich 
:egic 


Near  the  Throne 

Plutarque  the  opportunity  to  walk  slowly  across 
unobserved  behind  all  three.  "  Camel  drivers,  cob- 
''lers,  fish  mongers,  pedlars—river  rats— every- 
bo^     " 

*'  C  -de,"  called  Osman,  going  after  him. 

IVIa'-cel  was  hastening  as  much  as  was  consistent 
with  the  lameness  of  the  mendicant  whose  in- 
firmities furnished  him  with  so  effective  a  disguise. 

"  He's  deaf,"  said  Murad. 

Osman  called  more  loudly : 

"Hafid!" 

]5alzar  quickened  his  steps.  The  noise  had 
brought  in  Sebah  and  Fuad. 

"  Orde  Hafid  !  "  shouted  Osman  again,  as  Murad 
caught  up  to  him  and  caught  hold  of  the  old  beg- 
gar's cloak.     "  Orde !     You " 

The  Pasha  pulled  the  cloak  off. 

Seeing  his  disguise  ruined,  Marcel  instantly 
threw  off  his  wig  and  beard. 

"  Balzar!  "   exclaimed  the  Pasha. 

"  The  beggar  from  India !  "  laughed  the  Captain, 
who  had  already  drawn  his  poniard. 

Murad's  scimitar  leaped  from  its  scabbard. 

Marcel  rushed  furiously  upon  the  Moslem.  Le 
Beau  Sabreur's  hand  was  uplifted,  every  muscle 
and  sinew  strained.  This  seemed  to  be  his  only 
chance  now,  and  he  was  desperate.  The  blade 
was  descending,  aimed  at  the  Pasha's  heart  when 
his  arm  was  gripped  from  behind  by  Sebah.      In 

I  71 


i 


Near  the  Throne 


r 

1 

3: 

HI 

• «' 

(        : ' 

ii» 

1 

1 

;/) 

1  ,  i 
j  . 

1 

'  i 

:1 

-1 

f  1 

ti 

1 

I: 

1 

i 

' 

1 1 

(•.' 


an  instant  l^\iad  seized  his  left.  He  had  tried  to 
kill  this  enemy  and  failed. 

*'  Chains  for  him,"  commanded  Miirad, 

The  two  Mamelukes  quickly  disarmed  the 
Chasseur  and  placed  him  securely  in  irons. 

At  this  moment  Tlutarque  Taschereau  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness  toward  the  city. 

''Keep  the  sabre,"  Murad  said  after  examining 
the  weapons  of  the  prisoner. 

Sebah  took  the  trophy  eagerly. 

The  Pasha  himself  appeared  to  desire  a  smaller 


souvenir 


Give  me  the  poniard,"  he  said. 

Fuad  obeyed. 

"  It  is  strange,"  continued  Murad,  eyeing  Cap- 
tain Balzar  with  a  sneer.  '*  Strange  the  son  should 
so  quickly  follow  the  mother." 

"  What  do  you  mean  }  " 

"Just  what  I  say." 

**  My  mother  in  prison  }  " 

"  She  is  safe  below."  And  he  tramped  exult- 
antly upon  the  pavement. 

"  I  saw  her  at  home  an  hour  ago,"  answered  the 
Frenchman,  though  the  argument  was  more  to 
convince  himself  than  his  opponent. 

"Much  may  happen   in  an  hour,"  remarked  the 

Pasha    sententiously.      "  Would    you    know    her 

voice.-*  " 

"  My  mother's  voice  ?  " 

172 


Near  the  Throne 


'*  Lead  him  into  the  next  cell,"  replied  Murad 
addressin<;  the  soldiers,  and  takiii<;  a  whip  from 
Sebah.      "Then  touch  the  woman  with  this." 

"That'll  make  her  speak,"  added  Osman  in 
approval. 

'*  I  want  no  proof,"  protested  lialzar. 

"  Hut  you'll  have  it  now,"  the  Arabian  replied. 

"  1  believe  you.  " 

"  Go  on  !  "  commanded  the  Pasha. 

"  The  cell "   put  in  Osman. 

"Thirty  one,"  said  Murad  thinking  the  as- 
trologer meant  they  should  be  reminded  of  the 
number. 

"  Is  not  far  along  the  passage,"  added  the  old 
Saracen  suggestively. 

Murad  was  quick  of  perception.     He  said  : 

"He  could  listen  from  here.      Let  him." 

Sebah  had  already  opened  the  entrance  to  the 
secret  dungeons  and  he  at  once  descended.  Cap- 
tain J^alzar  struggled  hard,  but  all  in  vain  :  Murad 
held  him  and  the  chains  were  strong  and  heavy. 
In  a  few  seconds  screams  were  heard. 

"Again!"  called  Osman  down  the  passage- 
way. 

"Stop!"  shouted  I^alzar,  indignant  and  en- 
raged— but  powerless. 

As  another  crack  of  the  lash  sounded  out  cruelly 
he  heard  his  mother  crying : 

"Mercy!" 

^73 


ri 


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f1 


i 


ill 


II)  i 


lb  •  , 

'  AW 


ill! 


I . 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

"Now  do  you  believe?"  asked  Murad  mock- 
ingly. 

"Yes,"  was  Marcel's  reply,  bis  nails  jiressed 
into  bis  palms. 

''  Call  Sebab,"  ordered  tbe  Pasha  to  Osman. 

Turning  away  from  them  Marcel  l^alzar  made  a 
vow  for  whose  fulfillment  he  believed  heaven 
would  lend  its  power: 

"  Tbe  trust  is  threefold  now.  And  I  will  not 
forget  them — Sebab,  Osman,  Murad.  The  first 
for  vengeance,  tbe  second  for  justice,  tbe  third  for 
triumph  !  " 

Tbe  Pasha  was  gazing  down  at  tbe  river  when  a 
rattle  of  lUlzar's  chains  attracted  bis  attention. 
Then  be  turned  and  stood  with  folded  arms  in  safe 
defiance,  looking  upon  bis  foe  as  a  hunter  would 
regard  a  frenzied  beast  in  a  cage.  Tbe  French 
Captain,  like  a  madman  who  yet  has  method, 
turned  to  him  and  repeated  tbe  words  of  the  trust 
with  an  emphasis  born  of  fury  and  determinatior  : 

First : 

" Vengeance!  " 

Murad  took  a  step  forward. 

Then : 

"Justice!" 

There  was  still  more  of  tbe  taunt  in  the  smile 
of  tbe  Fgyptian. 

Finally : 

"  Triumph !  " 

W4 


i 


I 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


This  threatenni^jj  enigma  Murad  met  with  the 
masterful  indifference  that  he  had  cultivated  so 
assiduously. 

"Balzar,"  he  said  resuming  the  subject  that  had 
been  occupying  his  mind,  "  1  shall  be  liberal  with 
you." 

Swinging  open  the  door  of  the  secret  dungeons, 
Osman  in  obedience  called  down  : 

"  Seban !  " 

''  You  may  select  your  own  sentence,"  continued 
Murad,  after  a  moment's  thought.      "  I  shall  give 

you  a  choice  :    your  mother's  freedom "     the 

Pasha  paused  a  moment,  as  a  click  of  bolts  below 
seemed  to  accentuate  the  necessity  for  the  ac- 
ceptance of  this  offer — "and,"  he  went  on,  "her 
safe  conduct  to  the  French  army,  with  your  im- 
prisonment for  life. " 

"  Or  death,"  remarked  the  astrologer  beneath 
his  breath. 

Sebah,  entering  in  time  to  hear  tlie  last  sen- 
tence, exchanged  glances  with  Vuad. 

"Or  else,"  continued  Murad,  giving  the  option: 
"your  freedom,  with  your  mother's  immediate 
sale  to  an  Arab  slave  dealer,  leaving  tonight  for 
the  Soudan." 

"  A  most  liberal  offer,"  said  Osman  making 
more  marked  his  master's  sarcasm. 

"It  is  no  choice!"   replied  Marcel. 

"  Your  reason  .'  " 

'75 


Near   the  Throne 

"There  is  but  one  alternative  for  a  man  to 
take — the  first. " 

"  Will  you  take  it?  "  Murad  asked  with  feigned 
eagerness.      "  And  give  for  her- " 

Captain  Balzar's  answer  was  instant  and  un- 
equivocal : 

"My  life!" 


I 


ii' 


i 


If 


I 


I 


CHAPTER    VI 


A    VEILED    MESSAGE 


Murad  immediately  gave  his  orders  to  Sebah 
and  Fuad,  who  were  quick  to  obey,  not  so  much 
because  they  delighted  to  mete  out  cruelty  to  any 
European  but  because  of  the  despicable  servility 
of  their  natures. 

*'  Remove  the  privSoner,"  commanded  the  Pasha 
with,  an  ostentatious  show  of  honesty  in  carrying 
out  his  compact,  "  to  the  dungeon  under  the  north 
wall.  Release  Madame  Henri  Balzar  at  once  and 
provide  her  safe  escort  as  far  as  the  army  of  Bona- 
parte." 

"  But,"  interposed  the  Captain,  "you  will  grant 
me  one  request  ?  " 

•'  NamtJ  it  " 

"  Permission  to  see  my  mother  before  she  de- 
parts and    I   go  to,"  hesitating  as  though   in  doubt 

how  to  characterize  \m  sp|)|;enpe— "  to  >yhat  J  have 
e^rnecl." 

Murad,  toilchlhg  tlsflirtli  hh  ffit*  shoulder  and 
walking  a  few  steps  away  with  liim,  called  the 
Mameluke : 

M  177 


Near  the  Throne 


ii 


f) 


.' 

t" 

I      ,t. 

M 

'J) 

!, 

:| 

'i( 

^     ■! 

!• 

il 


• 


iili 

,11 1 


"  Sebah  !  " 

The  Pasha's  move  was  to  give  a  contemptible 
instruction  to  that  sycophant,  though  he  intended 
it  to  have  the  appearance  of  wishing  to  carefully 
consider  the  question  with  the  astrologer  before 
making  answer. 

The  soldier  came  quickly  to  his  superior's 
side. 

"Take  the  woman  away,"  was  Murad's  order  to 
him,  "while  Balzar  is  speaking  with  her — back  to 
her  own  cell — thirty  one." 

Sebah  saluted  in  obedience. 

**  There's  some  one  coming,"  said  Osman  in 
warning,  and  looking  into  the  darkness  toward  the 
east.     "  It's  Taschereau." 

"  Give  him  the  opportunity  to  speak  to  Balzar," 
replied  Murad  surmising  that  that  was  probably 
just  what  the  old  Frenchman  wanted  and  at  once 
conceiving  a  ,  in  to  turn  the  interview  against 
the  Captain  and  his  secretary  and  to  his  own 
advantage. 

"  Fuad  !  "   called  Osman. 

The  Mameluke  immediately  joined  them  and  the 
four  engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  Taschereau 
imagining  he  was  unobserved  or  at  least  unheeded 
stole  cautiously  to  Balzar.  Marcel  harboured  no 
such  delusion  but  having  little  to  lose  and  every- 
thing to  gain  was  prepared  to  take  chances  and 

run  risks. 

178 


4 


\ 


It 


Near   the  Throne 


mptible 
iitended 
irefully 
'  before 

perior's 

•rder  to 
back  to 


T»an  in 
ard  the 

alzar, " 
obably 
t  once 
:gainst 
s  own 


nd  the 
lereau 
leeded 
ed  no 
every- 
2s  and 


I 


I 


"  Here's   a   file,"    \vhispgj-pc|   the   practical  Pk 
tarcji^e.     "  And  a  letter. '^ 

Cd|3tain  Halzar  took  them  quickly  and  hid  them 
under  his  coat.  But  as  he  did  so,  he  perceived 
that  his  action  had  been  seen.  To  cover  his 
possession  of  the  file,  which  he  was  extremely 
anxious  not  to  lose,  he  withdrew  the  paper  and 
glancing  at  it  with  well  feigned  caution,  said  to 
Taschereau,  being  careful  to  speak  loudly  enough 
for  the  listening  Murad  to  hear: 

*'  From  Bonaparte." 

The  Pasha,  with  his  customary  quick  intelli- 
gence, made  a  correct  surmise  and  whispered  to 
Osman : 

"A  despatch." 

Balzar  recognized  the  familiar  writing  at  sight, 
the  strange  and  characteristic  hand  of  the  little 
Corsican. 

Monsieur  Taschereau  by  this  time  was  endea- 
vouring to  make  good  his  escape.  His  athletic 
days  at  the  Sorbonne  now  served  him  well. 

"Arrest  him!"  ordered  Murad  a  trifle  per- 
functorily. In  reality  he  cared  little  for  the 
custody  of  the  old  journalist — just  yet. 

Sebah  and  Fuad  ran  in  pursuit. 

Turning  to  Captain  Balzar,  Murad  said  as  if 
nothing  had  happened: 

*'  Your  request  is  granted." 

'*  I  thank  your    Excellency,"   answered    Marcel 

179 


Near  the  Throne 


I 


1 1 


15  . 


ii 


II 


lii 


I ' 


iitii 


with  as  much  courtesy  a.-,  such  a  phrase  should  be 
delivered  with  were  it  addressed  to  the  first  gen- 
tleman of  Europe. 

The  two  soldiers  returned  at  this  moment,  but 
without  Monsieur  Taschereau;  evidently  he  was 
fleeter  of  foot  or  knew  intimately  some  of  the  dark 
and  tortuous  byways  among  the  ruins  of  this  part 
of  the  city. 

"  I  hold  you  responsible  for  your  prisoner,"  said 
Murad  to  them.  "  But  Balzar,  that  letter — very 
clumsily  done." 

"It's  a  private  letter,"  answered  the  Captain. 

*'  From  Napoleon,"  retorted  the  Egyptian.  **  So 
much  the  befter.      Make  haste." 

Captain  Balzar  knew  there  was  no  use  endanger- 
ing his  wrist  in  an  unequal  struggle.  He  ex- 
pected to  need  it  the  next  time  his  hand  grasped 
a  sabre.  And  he  hoped  that  time  would  be  soon. 
Therefore  he  reluctantly  handed  the  document  as 
demanded. 

"Take  the  prisoner  to  his  cell,"  continued 
Murad  to  Fuad  and  Scbah,  opening  the  letter  and 
reading — a  favour  Marcel  had  scarcely  expected : 

"  Dear  Doctor  :  Please  call  at  once.  My  tooth- 
ache is  worse." 

There  was  no  signature. 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  J^alzar  concealed  his 

surprise  and  Murad  his  chagrin. 

"  A  letter  in  cipher  !  "  the  Chasseur  said  to  him- 

i8o 


r 


Near  the  Throne 


self  beneath  his  breath,  translating  it  from  their 
code :  "  Left  Belbeis  noon  today.  Wait  for  the 
roll  of  the  drum." 

The  young  Saracen  was  plainly  enraged. 

Then  Balzar  spoke  aloud  to  the  usurper : 

"  Murad,  when  you  want  me,  send  for  me." 

''I  shall." 

"  With  my  sword  as  a  pen  I  could  write  a  pre- 
scription for  you  that  would  cure  you  of  all  aches 
and  pains." 

"  Away  with  him  !  "  commanded  the  Pasha  en- 
deavouring to  appear  indifferent  to  this  bold 
affront. 

"  Murad,"  continued  the  Captain,  though  held 
securely  in  the  custody  of  Sebah  and  Fuad  and 
going  toward  the  opening  to  the  secret  dungeons, 
*'  Napoleon  has  a  message  for  you." 

''  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"He  will  send  it." 

"How.'" 

As  Marcel  disappeared  wit^i  the  two  soldiers  his 

reply  rang  back  : 

"  Wrapped  round  a  bullet !  " 


1 


i 


CHAPTKR    MI 


THi:    TKMPTATION    Ol'    THE    I'UKPLE 


I? 


J  I 


I  I  '  I   I 
It' 


j-'.f) 


i 

'-I 

w 

1 

1 

1 
t  1  ' 

*  *  \ 
\\ 

*  1 

1     ' 

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i' 

i 

!! 

I'" 

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i 

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1 

1 

Left  alone  with  Osman  and  looking  after  the 
irrepressible  though  vanquished  soldier  of  France 
whose  receding  footsteps  were  still  audible,  Murad 
said  rather  testily  for  a  man  endowed  with  so 
comprehensive  a  mind  : 

"His  name  sickens  me.  Wherever  I  go  I  hear 
it:  in  palace,  on  street,  in  hospital,  in  camp,  in 
trench— nothing  but  Balzar,  J^alzar,  Balzar  !  " 

*'  Yet,"  suggested  the  astrologer  anxious  to  turn 
his  master  from  the  contemplation  of  so  unpleasant 
a  subject,   "  with  liilzar  out  of  the  way " 

Seeing  the  vista  unfolding  plainly  before  him, 
the  Pasha  responded  warmly : 

"  I  am  near  the  throne." 

"Tomorrow  morning — "  the  old  man  went  on 
with  insinuation  in  the  raising  of  his  brows  and 
the  wrinkling  of  his  forehead. 

"  The  coronation  !  "  answered  the  youthful  con- 
spirator, his  voice  swelling  with  enthusiasm. 
"Then  I  shall  begin — to  build  again  the  empire 
of  the  Pharaohs !  " 

"  And  tomorrow  night  ?  " 

182 


f" 


1'!' 

I'll 


Near  the  Throne 


((    ■NT  '  I    " 

jNazira! 

*'  Yes,  Miirad  !  " 

"  Here — in  the  Palace  of  SalacUn  ! " 

"  A  creature  beyond  all  dreams  !  " 

Breath in((  faster  the  younger  Egyptian  walked 
toward  the  river  wall,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  entrance  as  if  he  saw  the  vision  approaching, 
for  the  doors  swung  open  as  he  continued : 

"  Oh,  for  such  a  woman — my  crown,  my  sce]:)tre, 
my  kingdom !  " 

At  that  moment  Hassan  and  his  daughter 
emerged  from  the  Palace. 

"You  have  quite  forgotten  Marcel  Balzar?" 
the  merchant  was  saying  as  they  came  down  the 
steps. 

"F'ather,  do  I  not  always  obey  you.'"  the 
daughter  replied  evap.ively,  though  apparently  he 
did  not  notice  it,  her  manner  was  so  assuring. 

"You  should  be  ashamed  of  such  a  man,"  he 
said,  half  in  caution,  half  in  reprimand. 

"Ashamed  of  Marcel.'"  she  exclaimed  as  they 
disappeared,  "  No.  When  I  blush  it  will  not  be 
for  him !  " 

Then  the  two  Mamelukes  returned  and  resumed 
their  sentry  duty,  p?,cing  up  and  down  the  full 
length  of  the  wall. 

"  You  have  not  read  the  heavens  for  some  time, 

Osman,"  said  the  Pasha.      "  I>o  so." 

"  Yes,  your  E.xcellency.  " 

183 


Near  the  Throne 


1' 


n 


loll 

if) 


l!il 


I »  * 


iili 


V 


The  astrolu<^er  bowed  and  went  into  the  Palace. 

With  all  iVIurad's  craft  and  daring,  witli  all  his 
heartless  cruelty  and  consuming  ambition,  he  had 
a  lofty  intellect :  for  he  loved  the  song  of  a  nightin- 
gale as  well  as  the  clash  of  battle — he  was  a  highly 
educated  antl  cultured  Oriental,  endowed  with  the 
mind  of  a  Teutonic  philosopher  and  the  soul  of 
an  Arabic  poet. 

"How  beautiful!"  he  said  scanning  the  east- 
ern sky.  "The  evening  is  like  a  lovely  maiden  : 
the  stars  are  the  pearls  upon  her  neck,  the  dark 
clouds  her  braided  hair,  the  deepening  space  her 
flowing  robe.  For  a  diadem  she  has  the  heavens 
where  the  seraphs  dwell.  Her  eyes  are  the  white 
lotus  flowers,  which  open  to  the  rising  moon. 
And  her  voice  is  the  rippling  of  the  waters.  I 
wonder  why  this  lovely  maiden  comes  arrayed  so 
divinely — sultana  of  the  night  .^  " 

Osman  came  back  with  a  telescope,  a  compass, 
and  a  large  book  under  his  arm.  "  Perhaps 
Balzar "   he  suggested. 

Murad  read  his  thought  before  it  was  uttered. 
**  Good  !  "   he  said.      "  Have  him  brought.  " 

The  two  sentries  were  just  passing.  The  as- 
trologer gave  them  the  order : 

"Bring  your  prisoner — Captain  Balzar." 

They  went  down  quickly  to  the  dungeons. 

"Those    locks    are    in    good    repair.''"     asked 

Murad,  as  a  click  was  heard.      "  See  to  it,  Osman." 

184 


^' 


livf! 


Near   the  Throne 


ilacc. 
his 
had 

htin- 
hly 
the 

il  of 


l<ri 


k 


"  I  shall,"  answered  the  Hey. 

"  We  want  no  escape  >.  " 

Sebah  and  Fuad  now  returned  with  Captain 
lialzar. 

"  Osman  was  jast  goin<;  to  read  my  fortune  in 
the  stars,"  said  ^furad  to  Mar'  el  with  mocivery  in 
every  tone.     "  Up  is  a  great  astrologer." 

And  Osman  ad(i>  d  : 

"  Perhaps  J^alzar  would  like  me  to  reveal  what 
the  shining  sybils  say  of  his  destiny.''  " 

"  Oh,"  retorted  the  Captain  holding  the  chains 
on  his  wrists  to  keep  them  from  breaking  where 
he  had  filed  them.  "  I  can  do  that  trick  on  my 
own  account." 

"  Indeed.''  "   questioned  the  old  charlatan. 

"  l^esidcs,"  continued  the  prisoner,  "  my  fortune 
is  with  myself — not  w  ith  the  stars  !  And  my  right 
arm,"  he  continued,  assuming  the  attitude  of  the 
beggar  when  he  stepped  in  between  Worda  and  her 
betrayer,  "  can  do  what  all  the  gods  in  the  universe 
refuse  to  do  in  the  hour  of  peril — protect  a  woman." 

"  Where  ?  "  inquired  Osman  with  sarcasm,  "  did 
you  learn  the  science  of  deciphering  the  heavens  ?  " 

"  When  I  was  decapitating  the  earth — shooting 
Mamelukes  !  "  was  the  quick  retort.  "  Perhaps 
Murad  would  like  me  to  read  what  the  twinkling 
sentinels  reveal  of  him.  It  is  fitting  that  they 
shine  at  night.  Do  you  see  that  star — just  above 
the  Citadel  ?  " 

185 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  M580 

(716)  872-4503 


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Near  the  Throne 


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ilii 


I 


"The  small  one?"  asked  the  Pasha  looking  in 
the  direction  to  which  l^alzar  pointed  as  accurately 
a^  the  weight  of  the  irons  that  bound  him  would 
permit. 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency,"  answered  Marcel  en- 
deavouring to  be  more  specific.  *'  Beneath  that 
brilliant  planet." 

"I  do." 

"  Can  you  distinguish  toward  the  east  a  dark 
cloud .'^"  the  Captain  continued.  "A  mere  speck 
upon  the  horizon?  " 

*'  What  of  it?  "  asked  the  Saracen. 

"  In  forty  nine  hours,"  replied  Captain  Balzar 
with  pregnant  emphasis  and  fearless  directness, 
"the  star  will  have  disappeared  beneath  the  cloud. 
The  star  is  yours !  " 

"  To  the  dungeon  with  him,"  ordered  Murad  to 
Sebah  and  Fuad,  becoming  choleric. 

They  proceeded  at  once  to  obey. 

"  Wait ! "  commanded  the  Pasha  led  on  by  the 
tempcation  of  the  purple,  and  reflecting  a  moment. 
"The  Nile  would  be  better." 

"He  would  make  good  food  for  fishes,"  sug- 
gested Osman  with  a  sinister  smile. 

"  Put  him  in  the  beggar's  rags  again,"  said 
Murad. 

The  Mamelukes  quickly  did  as  they  were  bidden. 

"Fuad,  a  sack  I"  resumed  the  Mahometan  ob- 
serving the  prisoner  stoop  a  little  and  fortunately 

1 86 


T 


Near  the  Throne 

not  divining  the  reason.     "  l^alzar  seems  a  little 
weary." 

Fuad  went  with  eager  haste. 

"But,"  put  in  Osman,  "the  water  will  refresh 
him." 

"  And  he  will  find  the  sack  quite  a  soft  bed  in 
which  to  lie,"  sneered  Murad. 

"And  sleep,"  added  Osman. 

"And  dream,"  said  the  Pasha  to  complete  the 
taunt.  Then,  handing  Balzar  the  coveted  piece 
of  paper  that  his  stratagem  had  retained,  he  said : 
"This  letter  is  no  use  to  me  now.  Take  it  to 
Nelson  at  Alexandria — the  current  will  carry  you 
that  way." 

"  Vou  think  so .?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Osman  with  well  feigned  patriot- 
ism. "Tonight  begins  a  new  era  for  the  people 
of  Egypt." 

"  New  eras  do  not  begin  with  treachery,"  de- 
clared Balzar. 

"What  do  you  mean.'*  "   inquired  Murad. 

"That  the  people  of  Egypt  must  wait,"  was  the 
abrupt  reply  which  was  at  once  an  announcement 
and  a  threat. 

"  Wait  for  what }  "  asked  Osman. 

Looking  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Murad,  Balzar 
responded : 

"For  the  death  of  a  traitor  who  is — near  the 

throne ! " 

187 


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;;;' 

i  1 1 


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I'll  'i 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

Fuad  returned  with  the  desired  sack  and  placed 
it  on  tlie  pavement  in  front  of  the  other  four 
men. 

"  I\it  him  in  this, "  ordered  the  I'asha  to  him 
and  Sebah,  touching  the  cloth  with  his  sandal. 
"Then  toss  him  over  that/'  pointing  to  the  wall. 
"  They  say  crocodiles  have  a  weakness  for  Euro- 
peans." 

"  No  doubt  they  would  relish  a  little  white 
meat,  "  said  Osm.an. 

"  ]^ut  I  think,"  ventured  l^alzar  seeing  that  a 
species  of  repartee  was  in  order,  "they  would  like 
a  little  dark  meat  better — though  they  might 
prefer  it  without  dressing." 

"Osman,"  said  Murad  dismissing  the  jest,  pos- 
sibly because  he  had  gotten  the  worst  of  it,  prob- 
ably because  he  was  anxious  to  despatch  his  enemy 
without  further  loss  of  time,  "  see  that  no  one 
comes  to  the  windows  of  the  Palace.  We  want 
no  witnesses." 

The  astrologer  went  immediately  up  the  marble 
steps  and  into  the  house  of  Saladin,  closing  the 
doors  after  him. 

Murad,  addressing  Halzar,  continued  : 

"  We  are  playing  a  fatal  game.  Monsieur.  It  is 
for  your  life  or  mine." 

"  Vou  have  said  it,"  replied  the  Captain  sullenly. 

Then  turning  to  his  two  soldiers  the  Pasha  said  : 

"  Sew  him  up  tight — stab  him  and  then  to  the 

i88 


lit 


T 


I  placed 
ler  four 

to  him 
sandal. 

le  wall. 

r  Euro- 


;   white 

that  a 

lid  like 

might 

>t,  pos- 
,  prob- 
enemy 
10  one 
3  want 

iiarble 
:ig  the 


It 


IS 


Uenly. 
I  said  : 
to  the 


I 


Near  the  Throne 

Nile.  I  will  go  down  the  river  hank  and  watch  for 
the  splash.  As  soon  as  I  see  it,  Til  shoot  in 
recognition  that  you  have  done  your  duty.  Then, 
Sebah,  as  a  signal  that  all  is  well  you  fire  one 
shot." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sebah. 

"You  understand.!*"  asked  Murad  anxious  to 
make  sure;  that  there  should  be  no  mistake  in 
carrying  out  his  plans. 

"We  put  him  in  the  sack,"  answered  Fuad. 

"  I  stab  him,"  went  on  Sebah. 

"Over  he  goes  into  the  river,"  added  Fuad. 

"You  see  the  splash,"  continued  Sebah. 

"  I  shoot,  well  done,"  said  the  Pasha. 

"  I  will  answer,  all's  well — with  one  shot !  "  an- 
swered Sebah  almost  impatient  for  the  work. 

And  Balzar,  the  least  disconcerted — so  forcibly 
did  the  droll  in  even  the  most  serious  things  ap- 
peal to  hirn — remarked  to  himself  : 

"  I  wonder  what  I  do  all  this  time.'*  " 

Murad  was  evidently  well  pleased  that  his  faith- 
ful and  willing  minions  knew  the  details  of  his 
method  so  thoroughly. 

"Bon  voyage.  Monsieur  Lc  Ik-au  Sabreur!"  he 
said  with  a  laugh. 

"  In  forty  nine  hours — to  your  Kxcellency  !  "  re- 
turned Marcel. 

As  the  Tasha  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  the 

passageway  between  the  Palace  and  the  wall  of 

189 


Near  the  Throne 


»;    '• 


(i: 


the  river,  his  eyes  aglow  and  liis  whole  frame 
aquiver,  he  called  to  the  Mamelukes  simply  the 
word  : 

"  Hegin  !  " 

l^iit  yet  those  two  small  syllables  were  spoken 
as  the  prince  of  demons  might  say  them  to  the 

evil  spirits  that  are  swift  to 
fulfil  his  fiendish  purposes. 
In  it  there  was  victory  and 
malediction.  And  it  was  the 
signal. 

Sebah  said  with  a  sneer: 
"Now,     l^alzar,     are     you 
ready  .'*  " 

"  Ready  ? ''  he  replied  break- 
ing the  chains  asunder  where 
he  had  filed  them.  "  Ready  ? 
Damn  it — I'm  always  ready!  " 
The  Mamelukes  were  un- 
prepared for  this  move. 

Grasping   the    hilt    of    his 
own  sabre  which  was  in  I'uad's 
scabbard  the  Captain  drew  it  forth  like  a  flash  of 
lightning  and  gave  the  challenge : 

"For  years    I've   been   a  fighter,   so  one  fight 
more — come  on  !  " 

Sebah  alone  having  a  sword  now,  rushed  quickly 
upon  the  rebel,  but  was  no  match  for  the  skilful 

blade  of   Balzar :  he  was  thrust  through  the  heart 

190 


^H 


Near  the  Throne 


e  frame 
iiply  the 


spoken 
to  the 
iwift  to 
Lirposes. 
ory  and 
*vas  the 

eer : 
:     }'  o  u 

I  break- 
r  where 
Ready  ? 
eady !  " 
re   un- 

of  his 
Fuad's 
flash  of 


e  fight 


juickly 
skilful 
e  heart 


I 


and  fell  writhing  upon  the  stones  and  in  an  instant 
the  Arabian  was  dead. 

"Vengeance!"   shouted  Marcel,   jiointing  with 
one  finger  at  his  fallen  enemy  and  holding  up  the 


gleaming  Eteel. 


Then,  seeing  the  danger  he  was  in,  the  Chasseur 
picked  up  Sebah's  sword  and  threw  it  violently 
into  the  river.  But  Fuad,  being  left  without  any 
other  arm,  was  already  drawing  his  pistol.  Balzar 
closed  in  upon  him.  They  struggled  fiercely  for 
possession  of  the  loaded  weapon  of  death.  The 
Mameluke  got  the  soldier  of  France  on  his  knees, 
but  he  held  on  with  a  grip  of  iron,  then  with  one 
mighty  wrench  that  wellnigh  broke  Fuad's  wrist 
he  forced  the  pistol  from  the  Egyptian's  grasp  and 
threw  him  to  the  pavement.  Marcel,  realizing 
there  was  no  time  to  lose,  even  though  he  seemed 
to  be  master,  pointing  to  the  dead  man,  said : 

"  He  will  make  good  food  for  fishes.  Be  quick — 
into  the  sack  with  him  !     But  first — the  keys !  " 

The  sentinel  appeared  not  to  understand. 

Pointing  below  to  the  subterranean  dungeons, 
Balzar  added:  "  Cell  thirty  one." 

Fuad  hesitated. 

"The  keys,"  repeated  Marcel,  "or,"  raising  the 
sword  even  with  the  Arab's  throat  and  drawing  it 
with  a  hissing  sound  through  the  air. 

Fuad  understood :  he  immediately  got  tiie  de- 
sired and  valuable  pieces  of  metal  from  the  cloth- 

191 


!      V 


I :.».«; 


Near  the  Throne 

ing  of  the  bleeding  Mameluke  and  gave  them  to 
the  victor. 

With  the  happiness  of  anticipation  Marcel 
ejaculated : 

"  \'ou  are  free,  mother !  " 

Together  they  put  Sehah  into  the  sack  and  car- 
ried it  to  the  wall,  Marcel  saying: 

"  His  fortune  is  with  the  stars — they  leave  him 
to  the  crocodiles.  My  fortune  is  in  my  heart  and 
the  sabre  of  Aboukir!  " 

As  they  climbed  up  by  four  projecting  stones 
to  the  top  of  the  wall  and  lifted  the  sack,  r\iad, 
trembling  for  his  own  safety,  said  : 

*'  Black  night  on  the  river." 

"Yes,'  answered  Captain  15alzar  ominously, 
"and  under  it  tot)!"  Then  looking  into  the 
blackness  past  the  I'alace,  he  said  :  "  The  game, 
my  I'asha — for  your  life  or  mine.-*  You  think 
you've   killeil   me!      l^ut   you're    wrong.      For    I 

live "  swinging  the  sack  with  the  assistance  of 

l^\iad  and  tossing  it  into  the  river  •rhere  the 
moonlight  streamed — the  loud  splash  being  an- 
swered by  the  deceived  Pasha's  pistol  in  the  dis- 
tance— " to  win  !  " 

The  terrified  Mameluke  could  only  slink  down 
from  the  wall  and  look  on  in  amazement  at  the 
daring  figure  outlined  against  the  sky.  In  quick, 
confirmatory  answer  rang  out  Captain  Balzar's  shot : 


1 


mg 


192 


<  I 


hem  to 


Marcel 


« 


ncl  car- 
ve him 
art  and 

stones 
I'uad, 


1  oil  sly, 
to  the 
game, 
think 
For  I 
nee  of 
'c  the 
ig  an- 
;.e  dis- 

down 

at  the 
quick, 
» shot : 


THIRD    INTKRLOCiUK 

T  W  O     D  A  V  S     H  A  \-  E     K  I.  A  V  S  E  I) 

The  war  of  elements  no  fears  impart 

To  love,  whose  deadliest  bane  is  human  art : 

There  lie  the  only  rocks  our  course  can  check. 

— Lord  Bvron. 

The  unseen  is  often  the  most  potent.  The 
mightiest  forces  do  not  come  within  the  scope  of 
human  visior  And  the  powerful  is  the  more  to 
be  dreaded  when  it  is  hidden,  especially  by  those 
against  whom  it  is  directed  with  wrath  guided  by 
reason.  1^'or  two  days  Marcel  l^alzar  kept  assidu- 
ously under  cover;  yet  no  man  in  Cairo  was  so 
active  or  occasioned  the  watchful  Murad  more 
concern.  The  rage  of  the  l^asha  knew  no  bounds 
when  he  heard  of  the  escape  of  the  Captain.  Men 
on  horses  and  camels  were  sent  along  the  river  and 
out  on  the  desert,  with  promises  of  rich  reward 
if  they  should  bring  back  the  head  of  Lc  Beau 
Sabreur.  The  hospitals  were  ransacked,  the  pyra- 
mids were  searched.  He  could  not  be  found. 
Murad  had  the  gates  guarded  and  .vent  on  with  his 
secret  preparations  for  the  massacre,  but  was  ever 
conscious  of  the  danger  from  a  daring  foe  within 
13  193 


'  .' 


IM 


Near  the  Throne 

a  city.  He  had  now  grasped  the  sceptre  of  the 
Pharaohs.  Announcing  that  he  was  the  chosen 
servant  of  Mahomet,  the  new  King  vowed  that  no 
force  in  earth  or  heaven  would  wrench  one  jewel 
from  his  crown.  The  ICgyptian  felt  sure  the  sol- 
dier of  France  must  dread  the  light,  yet  he  saw 
him  with  the  avenging  sabre  of  Aboukir  in  every 
shadow  by  day  and  by  night — and  realized  that  no 
stratagem  would  be  left  untried  to  get  a  message 
to  Bonaparte  which  would  bring  the  little  Corsican 
back  to  drag  the  usurper  from  the  throne. 


W 


! 


T 


re  of  the 
»e  chosen 
d  that  no 
)ne  jewel 
i  the  sol- 
:t  he  saw 

in  every 
cl  that  no 

message 
Corsican 


JBool?  jfour 

TO   SAVE   A   COUNTRY 


>s 


'\ 


l'!' 


5      I 


{ 


i 


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(   ^ 


I 


I 


it'  ! 


!■'    ! 


|gC 


i 


CHAITl-R    I 


THK    KKiHT     To    IIAIMMNKSS 


A  chamber  in  the  house  of  Hassan,  furnished 
elaborately  but  used  by  the  merchant  as  a  count- 
ing room. 

The  architecture  that  circular  style  distin- 
guished by  the  Moorish  arch  which  renders  so 
picturesque  the  more  pretentious  dwellings  of  med- 
iaeval and  modern  Kgypt. 

The  green  tinted  walls  ornamented  with  quaint 
symbols  in  violet  and  gray,  and  draped  with  heavy 
silken  hangings  of  rich  yellow  and  softest  red. 

In  hollowed  niches  and  on  carven  shelves  rare 
treasures  in  stone  and  bronze  of  the  splendid  age 
of  Seti  and  the  less  ancient  but  more  brilliant 
epoch  of  Cleopatra. 

The  hard  wooden  floor  seen  only  here  and  there 
between  the  oriental  rugs  that  accentuated  the 
atmosphere  of  comfort  and  affluence. 

Near  the  centre  of  the  room  a  table  with  a 
number  of  commercial  papers  and  several  piles  of 
coin  upon  it,  which  Hassan  was  carefully  counting 
and  entering  the  amounts  in  a  ledger. 

197 


\ 


■  I 


t    I 


i!l  .  I  J 


I    »' '      * 


it  I 


Near  the  Throne 

Almost  behind  this  to  the  right  a  latticed  win- 
dow with  a  minaret  seen  through  it  and  to  the  left 
a  curving  staircase  near  which  were  four  tabarets 
inlaid  with  mother  of  pearl. 

Diagonally  to  the  left  th  open  door  of  iron  to 
a  vault,  inside  of  which  a  candle  was  burning, 
casting  its  glimmer  upon  numerous  small  chests 
and  bags  of  money. 

Straight  across  the  room  a  curtained  multifoil 
archway  leading  to  r.  door  swinging  toward  the 
street  below. 

Hanging  lamps  suspended  on  fancy  ropes  shed- 
ding their  soft  and  coloured  glow  over  all  the  room  ; 
and  a  burnished  tripod  surmounted  by  a  brazier 
from  which  curled  fragrant  incense,  spreading  its 
aroma  through  the  room. 

Just  in  front  of  the  window  with  the  moonlight 
flooding  through  it  and  tinging  a  divan,  a  number 
of  pillows  upon  which  reclined  Nazira.  Three 
Nubians  fanning  her.  Nearby  the  Parisian  gover- 
ness playing  on  a  harp  a  French  march. 

"No,  not  that,  Lucine,"  said  Nazira.  *' I  am 
not  merry  today." 

The  musician  drifted  into  a  waltz.  But  she  had 
played  only  a  few  bars  vvhen  Nazira  said,  raising 
herself  to  the  window  and  looking  out  into  the 
languorous  night : 

"  Sing  to  me.      Some  music  like  the  great  world 

out  there,  dreamy  and  dark  and  beautiful." 

198 


U-JH 


Near  the  Throne 

In  her  soft  rich  contralto  the  Provenc^al  sang  a 
serenade : 

' '  Wherefore  should  I  pause  to  listen 
To  yon  birds  of  the  grov^, 
When  the  bird  whose  sontj  is  sweetest, 
Sings  in  thy  voice,  my  love ! 
Though  the  stars  were  hidden, 
In  yon  azure  skies, 
lirighter  stars  are  shining, 
In  thy  earnest  eyes! 

"  Though  April  brings  once  more  the  flow'rs 
From  out  their  earthly  tomb. 
The  flow'r  whose  perfume  sweeter  is 
In  thy  true  heart  doth  bloom ; 
This  bird  thus  like  the  phoenix, 
That  biight  star  above, 
And  the  soul's  sweet  blossom 
Have  all  one  name,  'tis  love ! 

^'  Ah  !  this  blossom  of  the  soul  is  call'd  love! 
Yes,  bird  and  star  and  blossom, 
Have  all  one  name,  'tis  Love, 
Yes,  bird  and  star  and  blossom, 
Havt    ill  one  name,  'tis  Love!  " 

Looking  up  from  his  papers,  Hassan  remarked : 
"  Songs  disturb  me— when  I'm  busy.  " 
"You  may  go,  Lucine,"  said  the  daughter,  not 
wishing  to  trouble  her  father. 

Lucine  went   out  by  the  staircase,  followed  by 

the  thr  ;e  Nubians. 

-Five,   ten,   twenty,   fifty, -one  hundred,"  went 

199 


Near  the  Throne 


It" 


1  \ 


\t  '■ 


<\i\- 


on  Hassan,  counting  and  lifting  the  appropriate 
piles  of  coins  and  putting  them  into  one  of  the 
leathern  receptacles.  "  The  last  bag  full.  Silv^er. 
I  wish  it  was " 

"Father." 

"Just  a  miquie,"  said  he,  moving  the  bags  over 
as  he  spoke.  "  One  hundred,  two  hundred,  three, 
four,  five.  Yes,  it  is  time  you  should  be  think- 
ing of  marriage." 

"  Not  yet,"  answered  Nazira. 

"  l^ut  be  wise,"  continued  the  merchant. 
"Choose  well;  be  careful  to  secure  gold." 

With  all  his  wisdom  and  skill  in  accumulation, 
this  man  forgot  one  thing — that  truth  which  is 
written  alike  in  guarded  bank  and  perfumed  bou- 
doir; clicking  in  every  safe,  rustling  in  e\'ery 
gown,  sparkling  in  every  diamond — that  in  the 
long  run  money  always  finds  its  way  to  a  woman. 

"  But,  father,"  the  daughter  answered,  "  it  is 
not  wealth  I  am  seeking.     It  is  happiness." 

"  Happiness  !  "   he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  she  responded. 

"Ah,  you  forget :  the  gates  of  paradise  are  built 
of  gold,  its  streets  are  paved  with  gold,  its " 

"Then,"  she  interrupted,  leaning  on  her  elbows, 
"  I  do  not  wish  to  l,o  there." 

"I    fear   your  rssociation  with    foreigners   has 

made  you  too  much  of  a  European." 

"  Me.-*  "   she  answered  in  astonishment. 

200 


H 


'  m 


Wear  the  Throne 


It     IS 


"You,  daughter!" 

"  I  am  too  proud  to  be  of  our  own  race,"  she 
averred,  sitting  up.  "  My  blood  is  Coptic-so  is 
my  heart.      I  am  a  true  Egyptian. " 

Hassan  was  well  pleased  with  this  outburst. 
Nazira  had  come  honestly  by  her  temperament. 
Her  father  knew   it,  and  even  gloried  m  her  in- 

lipr  ttince 

''I  have  decided,"  he  said,  ''to  give  your  hand 

in  marriage." 

"I  am  listening,  father,"  replied  the  girl  with 

eagerness  in  her  manner. 

"  To  one  with  whom  union  would  mean  fortune, 

fame,  power." 

"Who?" 

"  He  was  crowned  yesterday. 

"Murad.'  "   she  inquired. 

''The  King,"  he  answered  hoping  for  reinforce- 
ment from  the  word. 

''  I  cannot  marry  him."  Xazira  declared  without 

hesitation. 

"  Think  what  you're  saying." 
"It  is  true,"  she  urged. 
"Why  can't  you?  " 
"  I  do  not  wish  to." 
"  Hut  I  want  you  to." 
"  It  is  impossible,"  she  protested. 
"  What '  "   the  father  said  leaning  forward  across 
the  table  and  amazed  at  his  daughter's  rebellion. 

201 


I 


'    » 


^r ; ; 


t 


(( 


Near  the  Throne 

I  have  no  desire  to  marry  Murad. 
What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
I  will  not.  " 


Ikit  I 


say  yo 


II  shall. 


"And  I  decline.     I  have  said  it  I  " 

"  I  command  you ! "  he  ordered  striking  his 
hand  upon  the  table. 

"Then  I  refuse!"  she  answered  rising  from 
the  divan  and  turning  upon  him  in  passionate 
defiance. 

"Nazira!  Am  I  not  your  father.'  Have  I  no 
rights?  " 

"In  all  else  I  am  your  daughter,"  she  replied, 
totally  disregarding  the  reprimand,  "dutiful,  obe- 
dient— but  when  it  comes  to  marriage,  then  I  re- 
serve the  right  to  dispose  of  my  own  heart." 

Hassan   walked  away.      "  Quite  a  tigress,"  he 

thought.      "  Perhaps   she    is    not    far    wrong    this 

time.      The  self-willed  are  often  more  than  half 

right."      Returning  he  said   xcry  gently:    "Well, 

lazira — ■ — 

"  Yes,  father,"  she  said  taking  her  tone  from 
his.  And  there  was  patience  with  filial  affection 
in  every  note  of  her  voice. 

It  cost  Hassan  much  to  make  the  statement, 
but  with  answering  love  he  said  : 

"  His  name  shall  be  banished  from  our  home." 

"  Father,"   Nazira  responded  putting  her  arms 

about  his  neck,  "  how  good  you  are !  " 

202 


l'<  > 


Near  the  Throne 

With  her  ^^rateful  eyes  still  lookin^^  into  his,  he 

continued  : 

"I   had   set  my  mind  upon   this  alliunce;   but  I 


I  no 


love  you,  my  child,  too  well  to  bring  any  sorrow 
into  your  young  life." 

*'  Now  you  are  my  own  father." 

As  he  walked  toward  the  vault  Hassan  made 
no  effort  to  avoid  the  rejection  :  "  Mow  like  her 
mother  she  looks."  Then  turning  to  his  child  he 
said:  "Nazira,  you  have  your  mother's  eyes,  her 

hair " 

"  Have  I  ?  "   she  asked,  glad  that  the  father  saw 


20; 


T 


i|: 


fV  I 


r 


<  I 


iMM 


Near  the  Throne 

in  her  anything  that  reminded  him  of  the  wife  he 
had  loved  so  dearly. 

"And  her  smile,"  he  ran  on.  "And  her  tem- 
per. I  had  a  picture  of  her — I  haven't  been  able 
to  find  it  lately.  Go,  put  on  those  robes  I  like  to 
see  you  in — and  the  coronet.  I  gave  i'c  to  your 
mother  on  her  bridal  day.      I  used  to  call  her — 

Nazira,  anxious  to  grant  her  father's  slight- 
est wish,  obeyed.  "  I  shall  be  back  in  a  few  min- 
utes," she  said  d^^sappearing  up  the  staircase.  But 
the  girl  stopped  and  looked  back.  Always  now 
there  was  present  in  her  unquiet  mind  the  image 
of  the  Saracen,  who  desired  her  and  whom  she 
feared — Murad. 


Wt 


CHAPTER   II 


A    MONK    AND    HIS    MISSION 

When  Nazira  had  passed  from  the  room  it  was 
like  the  ceasing  of  a  melody  or  the  going  out  of  a 

light. 

"  It  would  break  my  heart,"  Hassan  reminded 
himself,  "  if  anything  should  happen  to  her.  It 
looks  as  if  a  storm  were  coming,"  he  observed 
glancing  out  the  window  at  the  clouds  drifting  by, 
for  northward  down  the  river  the  sky  looked  very 
threatening. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Come    in,"    said    Hassan    drawing    aside    the 
curtains  at  the  archway. 

Murad  entered,  taking  the  precaution  to  quietly 

lock  the  door  after  him. 

"Your  Majesty,"  said  Hassan.  "Good  even- 
ing." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  was  the  answer. 

"  You  have  called " 

"  For  two  purposes.  First,  to  learn  if  you  are 
ready  to  make  the  proposed  loan  to  our  Govern- 
ment." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  unable  to  do  so, "  replied 

205 


ff 


hi 


I; 


) 


Ml 


(t 


i^i 


1 1 

1i 


■  t 


•J 


if 


::l 


. 


Near  the  Throne 

the  merchant.  "  I  regret  I  have  so  much  out  at 
present  in  l^iglish  securities  that " 

"  You  have  none  for  your  own  country?  " 

"Though  it  is  not  as  I  would  wish,  yet  it  is  the 
fact." 

"  Aly  second  object,"  resumed  the  usurper, 
**  was  to  see  if  Osman  has  been  here." 

Hassan,  perceiving  at  once  the  ulterior  mean- 
ing of  this  remark,  for  he  knew  the  purport  of  the 
astrologer's  visit,  replied: 

"  The  Hey  said  he  would  call  tonight,  but  has 
not  come  yet." 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"It  is  just  as  well,  though." 

"Why  so.?" 

"  Because  I  fear  I  cannot  grant  his  request." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Murad  astonished  beyond 
measure. 

"  That  is  my  conclusion." 

"  Have  you  considered  all  my " 

"She  is  not  for  sale,"  said  the  father  with  in- 
dignant determination. 

"  You  affront  me  like  this  !  "  said  Murad  taking 
a  menacing  stride  forward  while  Hassan  retreated 
a  step. 

"  Xo,"  asserted  Hassan,  but  without  the  slight- 
est apology  in  tone  or  manner.  "  Nothing  was 
further " 

"  I'^ling  my  offer  of  marriage  l)ack  in  my  face !  " 

206 


Near   the  Throne 


)ut  at 

is  the 

iurper, 

mcan- 
of  the 

Lit   lias 


St. 

beyond 


ith  in- 
taking 
treated 


slight- 
ig  was 


face!" 


f 


the  Saracen  muttered,  c|uickly  advancing  upon  the 
man  whose  words  assured  him  1)ut  whose  eyes  de- 
spised him. 

"  I  beg  of  you  that " 

"You  insult  me — the  Kin,i;I  " 

Seizing  the  elder  man  by  the  shoulders  and 
throat,  M  u  r  a  d 
thrust  him  vio- 
lently into  the 
vault.  Hassan 
fell  senseless 
upon  the  floor. 

"  Stu  n  n  ed  !  " 
said  the  Moslem 
hoarsely,  rej^ard- 
ing  the  result  of 
his  anger.  Then 
shutting  the  iron 
door,  and  shov- 
ing the  bolt,  he 
added:  "Let 
him  smother!  " 

There  was  a  slight  flash  of  lightning  :  the  storm 
was  approaching.  Hearing  a  faint  noise  just  out- 
side, Murad  went  hastilv  to  the  window. 

"  Osman !  "  he  whispered  to  himself  surprised, 
noting  the  old  man  was  below. 

'^  Murad,"  came  in  the  voice  of  the  astrologer. 

Then  the  young  usurpe-r  called  low  :  "  Osman  !  " 

207 


Near  the  Throne 


i 


HU 


:,  I 


!'    I 


"  I  am  waiting." 

Going  quickly  to  the  table,  Murad  looked  hur- 
riedly through  the  papers  with  the  evident  inten- 
tion of  seeing  if  there  was  anything  among  them 
of  value  to  himself,  and  of  returning  to  the  customs 
of  the  Mamelukes — taking  by  force  the  loan  that 
had  been  refused  on  request.  Picking  up  two 
documents  with  large  blue  seals  upon  them  he 
read  the  first :  "  Thirty  days  after  date?  Too  long 
to  wait,"  he  said  in  disgust  tearing  it  in  half  and 
throwing  away  the  pieces.  "Sixty  days!"  he 
read  on  the  second.  "Worse  and  more  of  it." 
Then  seizing  a  bag  of  coin  he  walked  to  the 
window  saying :   "  Osman,  catch  !  " 

"  Ready!  "   came  in  the  voice  of  the  Bey. 
.  Murad  threw  it.     There  was  a  sound  of  scatter- 
ing coins  on  the  pavement  below.     The  bag  had 
broken. 

"Spread  your  cloak!"  suggested  Murad,  re- 
turning to  the  door  of  the  vault  and  listening  be- 
fore drawing  the  bolt.      He  opened  it  slowly. 

Hassan  was  lying  on  the  floor  unconscious. 
This  was  Murad 's  opportunity.  He  took  it — 
and  also  a  number  of  bags  of  gold  from  the  shelves 
and  threw  them  out  the  window  to  Osman.  They 
would  serve  as  part  reprisal  to  replenish  his  coffers. 
There  was  no  sound :  they  were  caught  and  con- 
veyed safely  and   immediately  to   the   Palace  of 

Saladin. 

208 


u 

S 


Near  the  Throne 


"  Balzar  has  a  pretty  taste  in  poniards,"  remarked 
Murad  drawing  Marcel's  from  his  belt  and  sitting 
down — **  that's  a  beauty. " 

"  Father,"  came  gently  from  the  staircase. 

"That's  a  beauty,  too!"  he  repeated  turning 
in  the  direction  of  the  voice. 

"Father!" 

"Nazira!"  he  said  to  himself,  rising  in  his  in- 
terest and  brushing  a  paper  over  the  weapon  on 
the  table  in  his  eagerness  to  close  the  door  of  the 
vault.  Having  done  this  he  removed  his  cloak 
and  sat  down  again. 

"Are  you  waiting,  father?  "  said  the  girl  com- 
ing into  the  room  radiant  and  regal  in  the  jewelled 
robes  and  the  gleaming  coronet.  Not  seeing 
Hassan  and  observing  Murad  and  his  attitude, 
she  at  once  demanded :  "  What  have  you  done 
with  him }  " 

"  I  ?  With  whom  .-*  "  he  said  feigning  bewilder- 
ment and  rising  to  his  feet  with  the  grace  of  a 
courtier.      He  motioned  her  to  be  seated. 

"With  my  father,"  she  replied. 

"  Nothing.      He  went  out. " 

'Where.?" 

"Hassan  said  he  would  be  back  in  a  few  min- 
utes and  asked  me  to  wait." 

"Had  I  known  you  were  here,"  answered 
Nazira  in  doubt  whether  or  not  to  believe  this 
assertion,  but  quite  certain   that    she  oaght  and 


14 


209 


Near   the  Throne 


(:  i 


l>  ,1 

I    . 

I 

1  '1 

1 

PI 

i 

i 

i 

i 

* 

i 

!■'! 

t 

i 

desired  to  be  avv.iy  from  the  presence  of  this  man, 
"  I  should  not  have  intruded." 

"You  need  not  go,"  he  said  in  an  entreating 
way,  and  moving  toward  her. 

JUit  she  replied  simply :  "  You  will  pardon 
my " 

"Come,  Nazira,"  he  interrupted — "you  are 
always  so  cold  and  those  lips  are  so  tempting." 

He  tried  to  put  his  brutish  arms  about  her. 
She  had  noticed  the  handle  of  the  poniard  be- 
neath the  papers  on  the  table.  Wresting  herself 
away  from  him  the  girl  picked  the  weapon  up  and 
clutching  it  tightly  said,  fixing  him  with  her  furi- 
ous flashing  eyes  : 

"  Do  not  touch  me,  Murad  !     Or  I'll " 

"  You  ?  "  he  laughed  grasping  her  uplifted  wrist 
and  with  the  other  hand  twisting  the  poniard 
roughly  from  her  weaker  fingers  and  throwing  it 
disdainfully  on  the  floor.      "You  could  not." 

"  Father  !  "   she  called  divining  his  purpose. 

"  He  can't  hear  you,"  retorted  the  King  closing 
the  lattice  of  the  window  near  which  they  were — 
man  and  woman  alone  together. 

"  Marcel !  "  she  screamed  struggling  to  free 
herself  from  his  embrace. 

"  Monsieur  Balzar  is  dead,"  said  Murad,  his  face 
close  to  hers  and  her  warm  breath  setting  his 
blood  afire. 

"  Dead.^  "   she  cried.      "  1  see  him  !  " 

2IO 


Near   the  Throne 


I 


"Oh,   no!     I   saw  him  thrown  into  the  Nile — 

two  nif^hts  ago." 

He  tried  to  press  his  feverish  lips  to  hers. 

-  Marcel— Marcel !  "   she  shrieked  again  in  de- 
spair. 

There  was   a  knock  at   the   door,   hut   neither 

heard  it. 

"O  Nazira " 

A  second  knock ! 

''Who's  there?"  questioned  Murad  infuriated. 

A  Carthusian  monk  burst  open  the  lock  and 
entered  the  room.  Throwing  back  his  hood  and 
stepping  quickly  between  the  two,  he  said : 

''It  is  I!" 

"  Balzar !  "  exclaimed  Murad. 
"  Your  Nemesis  !  "  was  the  Captain's  reply. 
"  You !  "   said  Murad.     "  Alive  ?  " 
"  Very  much  alive.     Does  it  trouble  you  ?  " 
The  strain  being  over,  Nazira  relaxed  in  a  faint 
on  the  divan.     But  neither  of  the  men  observed 

"The  last  time  I  saw  you,"   resumed  Murad, 
"  you  were  in  the  clothes  that  fit  you  best— those 

of  a  beggar,  a  rascal !  "  ,     ui    . 

"I  had  the  rascal's  coat,"  replied  Marcel—   but 

you— you  had  the  rascal's  heart !  " 

"So  you're  still  spying?"  asked  the  Egyptian 
crowding  a  query  and  an  accusation  into  one 
sentence. 

211 


M 


•    i 


1  Jl 


,,..  I 


-'I 


A   Carthusian  monk  burst  open  the  lock  and  entered  the  room. 


1,' . 


I    I 


Near  the  Throne 

-No!" 

"  Still  intriguing  to  upset  my  plans?  " 

"Yes!" 

"  The  plans  of  the  King !  " 

"  No — of  a  traitor!  " 

'*  Monsieur !  " 

"  What  the  devil  else  would  you  have  me  do  ? 


hi 
i 


■s\ 


*'  Remain  in  the  city.  Attempt  to  leave — and 
my  Mamelukes  will  shoot  you  on  sight !  " 

Turning  away  from  his  foe  for  a  moment,  l^alzar 
noticed  Nazira  ill  or  wounded  and  at  once  went  to 
her  assistance. 

"  Hy  Allah  !  "  muttered  the  usurjjcr,  as  the  wind 
howled  like  a  loosened  sjoirit  of  evil  and  lie  went 

2'3 


■v-\ 


■I- 


ii!:: 


Near  the  Throne 

out  into  the  night.      "  I'll  begin  the  massacre  with 

Halzar!" 

And  the  Chasseur  said,  looking  after  the  Ara- 
bian: 

"Murad,   you   shall   buy   dearly  the  tears    you 

have  made  her  shed." 


I   i'il 


n' 


t! 


I  ilWI 


'Ml  •  ■-:' 

MM 
'I '  • 


ill  His 


W  li 


I 


If '   ' 


th 


-a- 


ou 


CHAPTER    III 


I  X  T  ()     T  H  E     T  K  A  1' 


"Nazira,"  whispered  Marcel  anxiously,  discov- 
ering her  arm  was  bleeding. 

The  delicate  flesh  had  been  grazed  by  the  pon- 
iard in  the  struggle.  The  Captain  tied  his  hand- 
kerchief around  the  wound  as  a  first  precaution. 
Then  he  heard  a  noise  in  the  vault.  What  was 
it?  Who  could  be  there  imprisoned?  Redrew 
back  the  bolt— there  was  Hassan  on  his  knees  as 
if  he  had  been  trying  to  open  the  lock  from  within. 

Though  still  weak  from  the  harsh  treatment  he 
had  been  subjected  to  and  the  brief  confinement 
he  had  endured,  the  merchant  managed  to  struggle 

to  his  feet. 

*'You    here?"     he    said     angrily     to     l^alzar. 

"  This  is  my  house." 

"Permit  me  to  explain,"  responded  Marcel. 

''And  I  order  you  to  leave  it  at  once,"  con- 
tinued Hassan  ignoring  the  courteous  request. 

"  Will  you  not  allow  me  to      -" 

P^r  reply  the  incensed  Egyptian  pointed  per- 
emptorily to  the  door,  saying : 

"  At  once  !  " 


f: 


Near   the   Throne 

No  self-respectin<^  man  could  disregard  such 
contumely  unless  he  wished  to  resent  it.  This, 
under  the  circumstances,  the  physician  had  no  de- 
sire to  do.     So  Marcel  simply  looked  at  the  in- 


'  i 


suiter,  smiled,  bowed  politely — and  left  the  room 
without  a  word. 

"He  must  have  tried  to  force  her,"  reasoned 
Hassan,  seeing  the  dishevelled  state  his  daughter 
was  in. 

She  turned  over  wearily. 

Then  he  called : 

"  Lucine  !     Tinette !  " 

The  governess  and  the  maid  came  in  immedi- 
ately. 

2  i6 


Near  the  Throne 


"Run    for   a    doctor,   quickly!"    said  the   dis- 
tressed  father  to  them. 

Mademoiselle  Fleury  obeyed 
"My   poor   Nazira,"   moaned   Lucine    stroking 
lier  mistress's  forehead. 

"  Some  water !  "  ordered  Hassan. 
Lucine  went  to  one  of  the  tabarcts  to  bring  it. 
''Bleeding!"   exclaimed  the  father  noticing  his 
child's  arm.      "  The  scoundrel !  " 

-Who  did  it?  "  asked  Lucine  pouring  the  wa- 
ter from  a  pitcher  into  a  goblet. 

Hassan  did  not  take  the  time  to  answer,  but 
•  ently  moistened  his  daughter's   lips  and  brow. 
Pickin-  up  the  stained  poniard  and  looking  closely 
at  the\lade   and  hilt,  his  suspicions   were  con- 
firmed :  1       •' 
"  With  blood  on  it— and  a  name— Balzar. 
"This  is  his  handkerchief,"  added  Lucine  ex- 
amining the  initials  on  the  corner  and  hoping  in 
an  unobtrusive  way  to  furnish  her  master  with 
what  seemed  to  be  at  least  a  partial  refutation  of 

his  conclusion. 

"  Oh  ! '    gasped  Nazira  returning  to  conscious- 
ness under  her  father's  tender  ministrations. 

Throwing  the  poniard  aside,  smoothing  l»s 
daughter's  hair  xvith  one  hand  and  studying  the 
handkerchief  in  the  other,  Hassan  changed  his 
opinion  and  agreed  with  Lucine' s  thoughts,  saying: 

"  It  was  Murad!  " 

217 


f 


t'l 


^•.i' 

!i!" 


;.»•!! 


!!' 


;  III 

1     ■ 


IK!  (f 

1;     Ti 


Near  the  Throne 

Just  then  Tinette  came  back  and  announced : 
"  The  physician  across  the  way  is  out,  but  I 

noticed  Monsieur  le  Docteur  Balzar  going  to  his 

office." 

Neither  Hassan  nor  those  of  his  household  knew 


I'!; 


i 


anything  of  what  had  happened  the  night  before 
last  on  the  wall  in  front  of  the  Palace  of  Saladin. 

"  I  will  not  have  him,"  replied  the  Copt,  averse 
to  the  slightest  attempt  at  persuasion. 

]5ut  just  a  sigh  issued  from  Nazira's  parted  lips 
as  he  accidentally  touched  the  wound  on  her  out- 
stretched arm. 

"  She  is  suffering,"  said  Lucine. 

218 


I 


Near  the  Throne 


t  I 

his 

lew 


efore 

din. 

v'erse 


1  lips 
r  out- 


"I   must  get   someone,"   the    perplexed    father 

decided. 

"The  pain,"  breathed  Nazira. 

"  I'll  go,"  Hasi^an  resolved  ixoticing  with  relief 
that  his  daughter  was  falling  into  a  gentle  sleep  as 
Lucine  fanned  her.  ''  If  I  send  Halzar,"  he  con- 
tinued, ^'  remain  in  the  room,  both  of  you.  1  here 
must  be  no  conversation  between  him  and  Nazn-a. 

He  started  slowly  for  the  door,  but  stopped  be- 
fore reaching  the  archway-turned  back,  as  if  he 
had  resolved  not  to  call  Marcel,  no  matter  what 
might  be  the  cost.  But  he  looked  at  ^azlra  a 
fond  solicitous  look;  then  putting  aside  all  his 
personal  prejudices  and  racial  pride,  he  went  out 

with  a  firm  step. 

Nazira,  now  comfortably  reposing  on  the  cush- 
ions of  the  soft  divan  and  with  a  restful  far  away 
smile  on  her  countenance  such  as  limners  give  to  a 
sleeping  beauty,  was  apparently  in  some  distant 
and  peaceful  dreamland. 

As  her  father  creased  the  street  he  little  thought 
that  he  was  on  an  errand  that  would  bring  Cap- 
tain Balzar  back  to  a  trap. 


mh 


i   '( 


CIIAITl^R    IV 

FROM    Tlin    FLOWER    TO    THK    HEART 

Lucine,  concluding  that  her  mistress  did  not 
need  her  immediate  care,  joined  Tinette  at  the 
window  where  she  had  been  watching  the  ap- 
proaching storm. 

"  Lucine,"  said  the  maid,  '*  I  haven't  seen  you 
to  speak  to  since  yesterday." 

"  I  wish,"  answered  the  Provencal  abstractedly. 
*'  I  didn't  think  of  him  so  often." 

"Him!     What  him.?" 

"Tinette,  what  is  a  good  thing  to  help  a  girl  to 
forget  a  man  .-*  " 

"Another  man,"  was  the  prompt  and  laughing- 
solution  offered  with  a  kiss. 

"  You're  a  true  Parisiennc. " 

"  Why,  you're  engaged  to  be  married !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  .<*  " 

"  By  the  way  you  kiss." 

"  Antoinette !  " 

"Who  is  he.?" 

"  Can't  you  guess .?  " 

"  Monsieur  Carmier?  " 

"Don't  tell." 

220 


Near  the  Throne 


"  Girls  never  do." 

"I  t'i  ink  it  was  very  unfair  of   Hassan  to  dis- 
charge him." 

"So  do  I,"  acquiesced  Tinette,   "without  any 

reason." 

"I  think    it  was  because    he  knows  Monsieur 

Balzar. " 

"I  wish,"  confided  the  maid,  ''that  I'd  bought 
a  parasol  yesterday  before  this  rain  began." 

"  Can't  you  buy  one  yet  ?  " 

*'Yes,    but    parasols    are    up    today.       Isn't    it 

fearful ?  " 
"What?" 

•*  The  large  number  of  blacklegs  in  Cairo.' 
This,  or  rather  these,  the  ingenuous  Lucine  did 

not  see.  u    ,    . 

"  I  wonder,"  she  mused  interrogatively,      what 

it's  like  to  be  married.'' " 

-I    don't    know,"    confessed    her    companion. 
-  l^ut  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  bear  to  be  neglected." 

"Nor  I.  It  must  be  awful  if  your  husband 
never  comes  home  when  you  expect  him." 

"  But  "  the  vivacious  Mademoiselle  Fleury  ven- 
tured, ''  not  so  bad  as  to  have  him  come  home 
when  you  don't  expect  him."  ,      ,     , 

"Tinette!"  exclaimed  Lucine  quite  shocked. 
"You  say  such  naughty  things-and  I  know  you 
don't  mean  them.  I  must  see  if  the  children 
want  anything." 

22  1 


Near  the  Throne 

As  ATaclenioisclle  Cliaumoiit  left  the  room  Ti- 
nette  went  a^ain  to  the  window — a  tempestuous 
night  had  for  her  a  fascination. 

"  I  wisli  the  stars  were  out,"  she  said  foUowinfj 
the  course  of  the  bluisli  streaks  of  electric  splendour 
and  listenini;  to  the  rumble  of  the  distant  thunder. 
'*  I'm  almost  afraid  of  all  this  lightning." 

So  intent  was  the  maid  that  she  did  not  notice 
Worda  draw  aside  the  curtains  slowly  and  come 
silently  into  the  chamber. 

"  I  am  sure,"  the  young  I\gyptian  reasoned  with 
herself,  ''Xazira  wants  to  be  absolutely  certain. 
And  I  am  going  to  tell  her  the  truth." 

I  ler  sister  was  still  lying  on  the  divan.  A  float- 
ing end  of  drapery  hid  the  wounded  arm. 

"Sleeping,"  Worda  whispered  crossing  over 
and  marking  the  sweet  slumber.  Kissing  Nazira 
she  lisped  one  lingering  word:  "Sister."  Then 
she  went  quickly  to  the  table,  and  picking  up  a 
quill  scratched  a  few  words  quickly  on  a  piece  of 
paper.  "There,"  she  said  witb  a  satisfied  inflec- 
tion as  she  finished.  Returning  to  the  divan  and 
gently  placing  the  note  in  Nazira's  bosom  the 
faithful  little  exile  breathed  wistfully:  "Happy 
dreams  !  " 

Lighter  of  heart  than  she  had  been  for  weeks 
Worda  started  for  the  door  but  had  taken  scarcely 
four  steps  when  she  succumbed  to  the  temptation 
to  kiss  her  sister  again,  so  she  slipped  to  her  side, 

222 


!!■  I 


Near  the  Throne 


Ti- 

tuous 


1(1  our 
Intlcr. 


and  kiH'clin<^  touched  her  lips  to  Xa/ini's  hrow, 
for  fear  of  waking  her.  Tlieii  <;atheriii^  her  rohe 
ahout  her  she  started  in  good  earnest,  hut  on 
reaching  the  arch  paused.  "Someone  coming," 
she  said  in  cautl(jn  to  herself,  thinking  she  heard 


footsteps  and  running  across  and  out  of  the  room 
into  the  vault.  She  extinguished  the  candle  and 
drew  the  door  shut  after  her  in  order  to  he  safely 
concealed. 

Just  as  the  young  girl  disappeared  I^alzar,  having 
knocked  in  vain  at  the  outer  door,  entered,  and 
Antoinette  came  forward  from  her  rapt  contempla- 


T    T    ■» 


; 


t 


11 
I 


i! 


Pi 


;1 


k  .   ' 


"  I 


If 


;.i 


Near  the  Throne 

tionof  the  storm.  The  maid  inferred  immediately 
that  Hassan  had  summoned  the  physician. 

"An  hour's  rest,"  remarked  tiie  doctor  compre- 
liending  the  case  exactly  from  his  own  knowledge 
and  Hassan's  explanations,  "and  I  think  the  pa- 
tient will  be  quite  well.  Antoinette,  would  you 
mind  bringing  a  glass  of  water.'  " 

The  I'arisienne  thought  she  understood  more 
than  these  bare  words  expressed  and  felt  the  inner 
meaning  of  Marcel's  desire.  A  woman  knows 
when  to  trust  her  intuitions.  Tinette  went  for 
the  water — with  every  intention  of  taking  some 
time  to  bring  it. 

"Though  the  hope  that  is  in  one's  heart," 
mused  Marcel,  "  sometimes  sends  a  falsehood  to 
the  mind,  I  know  our  romance  is  not  over  yet,  for 
our  love  was  the  truest." 

Almost  falling  from  out  the  embroidery  at 
Nazira's  bosom  was  a  faded  flower.  As  Marcel 
saw  it,  and  the  gloom  of  the  past  came  upon  his 
mind  once  more  just  as  the  darkness  comes  over 
the  sea,  he  said  mournfully : 

"The  last  rose." 

And  he  heard  Lucine  singing  to  the  soft  ac- 
companiment of  lutes  in  a  room  near  by  that 
plaintive  Egyptian  melody  whose  strains  were 
borne  to  him  that  unfortunate  day  he  tried  to  per- 
suade Worda  to  return  home. 

Recalling  an  autumn  in  the  North — the  pathos 

224 


n 


Near  the  Throne 


ely 

)re- 
|clge 

pa- 
lyou 


in  the  music — it  sounded  like  the  lament  of  a  soul. 
Hut  he  had  not  seen  all  yet,  for  beneath  the  dead 
leaves  there  is  always  something  hidden.  Another 
glance  revealed  a  ring  down  among  the  withered 
petals  and  it  seemed  to  send  him  a  golden  ray  of 
sunlight.  Breathing  more  quickly  and  taking  it 
slowly  with  all  its  sweet  memories  coming  back 
to  him,  he  lifted  the  tiny  circlet  to  his  lips  and 
held  it  there  a  moment  wondering  how  faithfully 
it  had  carried  back  the  message  from  his  heart  to 
hers. 

**  Ah  !  "  sighed  Nazira  as  she  lay  dreaming. 

"  She  speaks,"  he  said. 

"  Marcel !  "   she  breathed. 

"Of  me." 

"  I  despise  him.      He  betrayed  my  sister." 

"Those  are  not  your  words,  Nazira,"  begged 
Marcel  taking  her  hand  and  kneeling  beside  her. 

"I  must  forget  him,"  she  sobbed,  and  the  tears 
in  her  voice  told  all  the  grief  of  her  heart  and  all 
the  anguish  of  her  soul. 

"Those  words  were  taught  you,"  entreated 
Balzar  in  despair — "they  must  have  been." 

"  Why  did  he  not  try  to  explain,"  her  distracted 
mind  wandered  on.  "  Father,  there  is  some  mis- 
take.    I  am  sure  there  is.      I  love  him  !  " 

Those  three  words,  the  syllables  Marcel  had 
longed  for — and  he  had  lived  to  hear  Nazira  speak 
them  once  again.      To  him  they  were  worth  years 


15 


22: 


' , ' 


Near  the  Throne 

of  heaven ;  and  he  would  have  given  it  all  to  kiss 
her  now,  but  feared  to  waken  her. 

Just  then  Lucine  and  Tinette  came  into  the 
room  with  a  fresh  pitcher  of  water.  Their  foot- 
steps aroused  their  mistress  from  her  sleep.  Bal- 
zar  was  behind  her,  standing  motionless  and  silent 
by  the  curtains  at  the  window.  Not  turning  she 
did  not  see  him. 

"  I  like  to  hear  you  sing,  Lucine,"  the  Egyptian 
said  sitting  up  and  drinking  from  the  goblet  the 
maid  poured  and  offered  her.  "Ah,"  she  sighed, 
"  I  feel  so  tired." 

The  Provencal  offered  her  arm. 

Leaning  upon  it  Nazira  went  up  the  staircase, 
preceded  by  Antoinette — and  followed  by  Marcel's 
eyes  aglow  with  hope  and  adoration. 


;i 


to  kiss 


ito  the 
r  foot- 
.  Bal- 
:1  silent 
ing  she 

^yptian 
let  the 
sighed, 


urease, 
arcel's 


CHAPTER    V 


A    LITTLE    TROOPER 


As  the  sound  of  their  garments  died  away  the 
door  of  the  vault  stealthily  opened.  A  slight 
creak  of  one  of  the  hinges  reached  Balzar's  alert 
ears  and  he  saw  the  form  of  a  girl  steal  cautiously 
out. 

"VVorda!"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Marcel !  "  she  answered  running  over  to  him. 

"  I  have  news,"  he  said  at  once,  wasting  no  time 
on  preliminaries  because  aware  of  the  need  for 
wise  and  prompt  action. 

"  From  Bonaparte }  " 

"  A  cypher  despatch. " 

"Yes.?" 

"  Came  two  days  ago.  He's  hastening  back  to 
Cairo  by  forced  marches." 

"  But  the  massacre  .-*  " 

"  I  know — at  midnight. " 

"  Not  far  off — and  Murad's  soldiers  are  gather- 
ing already." 

"Where.-*  "  inquired  the  Captain. 

"  At  the  Palace,  the  Citadel,  around  the  mosques 

in  all  quarters  of  the  city. " 

2  2  y 


Near  the  Throne 


hi 


m 


l^alzar  thought  an  instant.  Then  throwing  aside 
his  Carthusian  scapula  and  habit,  he  took  out  his 
watch  and  said : 

"  In  less  than  two  hours  the  great  bell  in  the 
dome  of  the  Citadel  will  strike  twelve." 

"  The  signal,"  Worda  reminded  him.  "  What  is 
to  be  done.-*  " 

"  We  must  send  word  to  Napoleon — to  hasten 
or  all  is  lost." 

"But  you  can't  go.  Marcel." 

"Why  not.?" 

"How  long  would  your  mother  live,"  the  girl 
reasoned,  "if  the  usurper  finds  that  you  have 
gone.-*     Is  she  not  in  prison.-^  " 

"Oh,  no!     I  got  the  keys." 

"You  did.?" 

"  From  Sebah — then  unlocked  the  door  of  cell 
thirty  one.  My  mother  is  now  at  the  house  of  a 
friend." 

"But,"  Worda  argued,  "you  can't  speak  our 
language.  It  will  be  difficult  for  you  to  pass  the 
sentinels." 

"You're  right — impossible,"  he  submitted. 
"They're  watching  for  me  by  this  time.  They've 
been  searching  for  my  mother  these  two  days." 

"Then,"  maintained  the  girl,  "it  is  your  duty 
to  remain.  Someone  else  must  go.  An  Egyp- 
tian." 

"There  is  none. " 

228 


Near  the  Throne 

**  Yes.     There  is  one.  " 

"Who?" 

•'  Send  me." 

"You,  Worda.?  "   replied  Marcel. 

"Why  not.'" 

"  Send  you  .?  " 

"Certainly,"  she   answered  pluckily  and  as  if 


she  were  surprised  at  his  astonishment.      "  Me !  " 
"  It  would  not  be  safe  for  a  girl  to  go." 
"  Like  this,"  she  agreed  throwing  open  her  ari'^s 

and  looking  down  at  her  clothes — "of  course  not." 
Perceiving    her    meaning    and  her  questioning 

resolve,  Marcel  said  without  comment  or  further 

question:  "  You'll  do  it.-*  " 

229 


u 


■i 


:  1 


^  4 


It      i 


'} 

''■■; 

10 

> 


i  ■'  I,   ! 


M  I 


! 


Near  the  Throne 

"Where  can  I  find  a  suit?  "  she  asked  in  reply, 
glancing  at  his  Chasseur  uniform. 

"In  my  surgery  across  the  street,"  he  re- 
sponded. 

Worda  was  already  in  the  archway. 

" It  was  made  for  a  lieutenant  in  my  own  regi- 
ment." 

"Where  is  it.^*  "  she  asked  impatiently. 

"  Hanging  in  the  closet.  " 

"  And  a  horse .^     Where  can  I  find  a  horse.?  " 

"  My  black  Arabian's  tied  to  the  surgery  door. " 

"Just  a  minute,"  she  said  and  ran  blithely  out. 

"Marcel,"  cried  a  child's  voice  from  the  stair- 
way; and  a  second  later  Halima  tripping  down, 
exclaimed  as  she  entered :   "  You  here  .-*  ' 

"  Ah,  Halima !  "  said  he  greeting  her. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  for  a  long  time,"  ran  on 
the  little  one  as  the  Captain  sat  down  and  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  she  nestled  close  to  his  side, 
"and  I've  been  wanting  to  so  much." 

"  Have  you.?  " 

"Yes. 

There  was  a  rumble  of  thunder. 

"I'm  afraid!"  cried  the  child  hiding  her  head 
in  Marcel's  breast  as  he  stroked  her  glossy  hair. 

"  I  wouldn't  let  it  touch  you,  Halima,"  he  as- 
sured her. 

"  And  you  don't  come  to  see  Nazira  any  more, 

do  you.?  "   she  said  regaining  confidence. 

230 


Near  the  Throne 


head 


"  I  should  like  to,  though." 

"  You  look  so  sad,  Marcel." 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  he  said  smiling,  "how 
happy  we  all  might  be  if — if " 

"Fm  so  fond  of  you,  Marcel,"  the  child  re- 
sponded climbing  upon  his  knee.  "  Ali  and  I 
were  just  talking  about  you.  But  you  did  not 
hear  us,  did  you.!*  " 

"  How  could  I }  "   he  laughed. 

"And  Ali  likes  you  too.  Marcel.  Tonight 
when  Lucine  put  him  in  his  cradle  he  cried: 
*  Wants  to  see  Marcel !  Wants  to  see  Marcel !  ' 
And  then  he  fell  over  and  went  to  sleep,  and  be- 
gan to  dream — dream— dream.  And  such  a  pretty 
smile  came  over  his  little  face.  So  I  suppose  he's 
dreaming  about  you.  Marcel.  You're  so  good  and 
kind  to  him  and  me." 

''  Halima !  "  called  the  governess. 

"I'm  coming,  Lucine!"  answered  the  child. 
Then  kissing  her  sister  s  lover,  the  little  one 
added:  "Goodnight,  Marcel." 

"Goodnight,  Halima,"  he  replied  kissing  her 
again — perhaps  for  the  sake  of  Nazira,  "you're 
like  a  ray  of  sunlight." 

"  Goodnight !  "  she  repeated  and  ran  away. 

The  same  instant  the  curtains  at  the  archway 

were  drawn  quickly  aside  and  a  flash  of  lightning 

shone  brightly  on  the  form  of  Worda,  making  the 

prettiest  boy  the  eyes  could  wish  for  as  she  stood 


i4 

I' 


Near  the  Throne 


iM 


there  as  if  onparatle  in  the  uniform  of  a  lieutenant 
of  the  Twentieth  Chasseurs. 

''How  will  this  do?"  she  asked  with  that 
sweet  pride  in  her  figure  which  every  girl  feels 
and  denies. 

"  Capital !  "  declared  Captain  Balzar. 

"But  these?"  queried  Worda  standing  there 
helplessly  in  a  pair  of  sandals  with  her  pretty 
limbs  encased  in  the  thongs,  and  holding  up  the 
leggins  as  well  as  the  riding  boots  she  had  brought 
from  the  surgery.     "  What  shall  I  do  with  them  ?  " 

"Put  them  on,  "  Balzar  promptly  answered, 
omitting  the  opportunity  to  be  facetious  though 
appreciating  the  humour  of  his  position. 

"Which?" 

"The  boots." 

"  l^ut  how?"  the  girl  inquired.  "I've  tried. 
They  won  t  go  on." 

*'  Make  them. " 

"I  can't.      What  am  I  to  do?  " 

"  You  heard  what  Taschereau  said  to  Tinette?  " 

"  Yes,  the  old  reprobate.  ' 

"Well?"  the  Captain  questioned,  waiting  for 
her  to  decide. 

W^orda  hesitated. 

"  Let  me  help  you  put  them  on,"  he  urged. 

"If   there's    no  other  way — well,   be  quick!" 

she  said  throwing  the   leggins  down  and  reluct 

antly  putting  her  foot  up. 

232 


'■ 


Near  the  Throne 

So  Marcel  knelt  and  lent  his  assistance  to  com- 
plete  the  uniform.  And  it  must  be  admitted  that 
for  over  a  minute  his  was  a  duty  that  no  man 
would  find  onerous.  First  he  had  to  take  her 
shoes  off,  next  pull 
the  refractory  boots 
on. 

"  They  make  my 
ankles  look  thick!" 
she  objected. 

"  Riding  boots 
always  do. " 

"Oh!  That's 
different!" 

"  Now  then  for 
Napoleon ! ' 

"I  have  the 
horse,"  she  broke  in 
exultingly. 

"Good!"  he 
agreed.     "  Once  out  of  the  city  and  all's  well !  " 

"  But  to  get  out,"  she  said  aware  of  the  problem 
and  its  dangers. 

Catching  sight  of  Murad's  forgotten  cloak, 
Marcel  exclaimed:  "The  very  thing — until  you 
get  beyond  the  gates." 

Worda  quickly  threw  it  around  her. 

And  there  was  the  Captain's  own  poniard  lying 

where  the  cloak  had  been  an  effective  covering. 

233 


1  I' 


il 


i;[ 


.:! 


11    I 
I 


} 


W 


■!■■   ! 

P 


!'i:^., 


>  ."  , 


i'lr  j  i 


1. 1' 


!:!| 


tt 


Near  the  Throne 

"And  this?  '*  the  girl  ejaculated. 

"Use  it,"  he  suggested  placing  the  weapon  in 
her  belt,  "  if  the  moment  comes." 

Neither  surmised  how  ominous  was  this  cau- 
tion— nor  how  soon  that  moment  was  ordained  to 
arrive  as  a  link  in  the  restless  chain  of  destiny 
that  no  man  can  break  nor  any  human  ear  perceive 
its  avenging  rattle. 

Feeling  in  the  pockets  of  the  cloak  as  he  fast- 
ened the  clasps  about  the  shoulders  of  the  charm- 
ing young  officer.  Marcel  made  a  discovery  and 
an  exclamation : 

*'  A  blank  pass  !    That  will  satisfy  the  sentinels. " 

Wordawas  certainly  well  equipped  :  armed  with 
a  passport  from  the  King  and  disguised  in  an  Egyp- 
tian cloak  until  she  passed  the  soldiers  of  Murad, 
then  a  uniform  that  would  at  once  command  recog- 
nition as  soon  as  she  reached  the  lines  of  the 
army  of  France. 

Balzar  sat  down  at  Hassan's  table  and  drew  out 
of  a  drawer  a  small  sheet  of  paper. 

Worda,  yielding  as  any  girl  would  to  such  a 
temptation,  went  over  to  the  mirror  and  spreading 
the  cloak  out  said  : 

"  I  wonder  where  this  was  made.?  " 

Balzar  wrote  rapidly. 

Glancing  down  her  figure  displayed  in  the  uni- 
form, her  knees  trembling  a  bit  and  her  eyes 
growing  larger,  just  as  Marcel,  hearing  the  clank 

234 


Near  the  Throne 


of  a  sword  and  turning  his  head  quickly,  saw  his 
courier  engaged  in  that  feminine  and  pardonable 
occupation,  VVorda  admitted  to  him  :  "These  feel 
so  funny." 

Taking  a  moment  more  to  add  his  signature  and 
to  dust  some  powder  on  the  ink,  Captain  Balzar 
folded  the  paper  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"  Are  you  ready?  "  he  said. 

"  Is  my  hat  on  straight  ?  "  Worda  asked. 

"Perfectly.  Don't  stop  until  this  letter,"  Mar- 
cel continued  giving  it  to  Worda,  "is  in  the  hands 
of  Bonaparte  himself." 

"These  are  good  spurs,"  she  replied  stamping 
her  foot  to  make  them  jingle. 

"Now  then,"  he  proceeded,  wishing  her  all 
speed  and  good  fortune  as  she  ran  to  the  door — 
"  swifter  than  the  wmd !  " 

"For  liberty  and  glory,"  slie  replied.  "Oh, 
I'll  ride  like  the  devil !  " 

And  the  girl  without  a  fear  dashed  into  the 
night. 

Hastening  to  the  window  and  concealing  him- 
self in  the  draperies,  Marcel  watched  Worda  cross 
the  street,  mount  his  Arabian  and  gallop  off  into 
the  darkness  and  the  storm — to  serve  a  sister  and 
to  save  a  country.  He  could  not  restrain  the  ad- 
miring reflection : 

"  You  may  depend  upon  a  woman  to  be  brave 
when  the  time  comes.  " 

235 


Near  the  Throne 


•II '  1 


The  clattering  hoofs  were  vanishing  in  the 
black  distance. 

Balzar  looked  after  the  little  trooper  and  knew 
she  was  putting  the  spurs  to  the  horse.  She  was 
nearing  the  gates  now.  A  doubt  entered  his  mind. 
Yet  he  felt  confident  that  she  would  safely  pass 
the  sentinels.     But  he  could  not  banish  that  doubt. 


i»-ii 


u 


the 


CHAPTER   VT 


THE    SEAL    OF    FIRE 


Captain  Balzar  peering  intently  into  the  black- 
ness as  if  it  would  aid  him  to  devise  and  ma- 
ture some  further  plan,  was  quite  oblivious  to 
the  almost  noiseless  entrance  of  Monsieur  Tasche- 
reau  from  the  street  and  of  Tinette  down  the 
staircase. 

•'Have  you  seen  Captain  Balzar?"  asked  the 
physician's  clerk  of  Mademoiselle  Fleury. 

"Not  for  three  weeks,"  she  fibbed,  and  added 
with  assumed  and  mischievous  petulance :  "  Nor 
you  either. " 

"  He  left  the  house  to  come  here.  I  want  to 
find  him.      Murad's  soldiers  are  after  him." 

"Well,"  the  maid  admitted,  "he  was  here  a  few 
minutes  ago." 

"Where  is  he  now.-*  " 

"  Gone,"  she  replied.      "  Find  him,  quickly  !  " 

Taschereau  was  already  several  yards  in  the  way 
of  obedience,  but  he  turned  back  and  taking  the 
girl's  hands  said : 

"  You're  pretty  enough  to  kiss." 

"  Don't  you  dare  !  "   she  cried. 

237 


Near  the  Throne 


r 

I 


rn 


■i  I 


But  he  tried  the  more.  Where  is  the  man  who 
wouldn't  ? 

"  I'll  scream,  "  she  responded. 

"  Sapristi !  Don't,"  he  cautioned  her,  tighten- 
ing his  tricolour  sash.  "  Somebody  might  hear 
you." 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  the  arch  Parisienne 
replied,  as  if  mingling  a  confession  with  an  an- 
nouncement. 

Plutarque  gave  her  a  good  hug  and  a  second 
kiss  for  keeping  him  waiting,  and  then  ran  out  to 
find  the  refugee  and  warn  him  while  he  thought  it 
was  yet  time. 

Tinette  had  not  the  lightest  intention  of  going 
an  inch  with  him,  but  hearing  her  master's  foot- 
steps, disappeared  immediately  after  the  revolu- 
tionist— then  came  in  through  the  curtains  of  the 
archway  at  the  same  time  that  Hassan  came  down 
the  stairs  with  Nazira,  supported  by  the  faithful 
Provencal,  who  led  her  charge  to  the  divan. 

"  How  is  the  patient.-*  "  inquired  the  solicitous 
father  in  a  low  voice  of  the  physician,  as  Monsieur 
Balzar  held  aside  the  portieres. 

Hass?  \  and  Lucine  had  been  careful  to  stand 
between  Marcel  and  Nazira,  so  that  she  had  neither 
seen  him  nor  heard  the  question — as  was  her  par- 
ent's intention. 

"I  feel  so  much  better  now,"  said  Nazira.  "I 
like  to  lie  in  this  room,  father." 


Near  the  Throne 


"I 


"She  answers  for  herself,"  replied  the  doctor. 
•'  I  shall  return  in  the  morning;." 

"  It  may  not  be  necessary.  I  shall  let  you 
know." 

"Then  for  the  present,"  said  the  physician, 
bowing  and  retiring  as  though  he  had  not  noticed 
the  unrelenting  sternness  of  the  merchant,  "  I  take 
my  leave." 

But  as  he  drew  aside  the  curtains  in  the  arch- 
way, there  stood — Murad. 

And  a  flash  of  lightning  illumined  the  room. 

"You  see,  l^alzar,"  said  the  King  with  that 
mocking  smile  of  his,  "  I  have  done  you  the  honour 
of  coming  for  you  myself." 

Instantly  Marcel's  right  hand  was  on  the  hilt 
of  his  sabre.  He  realized  that  once  again  face  to 
face  with  his  foe,  he  had  little  more  to  lose,  ex- 
cept his  life — and  everything  to  gain. 

But  Murad  no  sooner  saw  the  first  movement  of 
Marcel's  wrist  than  he  sounded  a  shrill  whistle. 
It  echoed  through  the  shrieking  wind.  And  as 
the  thunder  rolled  along  the  sky,  two  Mamelukes 
appeared  at  each  doorway  and  two  more  at  the 
window — eight  of  them  in  all.  It  was  nine  men 
against  one,  for  his  two  companions  were  unarmed 
and  were  not  fighters.  So  the  soldier  of  France 
bowed  to  the  inevitable— and  to  the  usurper— 
with  the  politeness  of  a  courtier  of  Louis  XIII. 
and  said  with  the  suavity  of  Talleyrand : 

239 


Near   the  Throne 

"  I  appreciate  the  honour,  I  assure  your  Majesty." 

"You  escaped  me  once,"  retorted  the  Saracen. 
*'  I  have  determined  not  to  give  you  the  chance 
acfr'n." 

"You  are  kind,  Sire,"  acquiesced  the  surgeon. 

Upon   entering   Murad   had  seen   lying  on  the 


,t.' 


divan  the  woman  he  so  intensely  desired.  Now 
he  missed  her.  She  had  crossed  over  unseen  that 
she  might  be  sheltered. 

'  vVhere  is  Nazira.^  "   he  demanded. 

"She    is  here,"   replied    Captain    Balzar — ^"  be- 
hind my  sword !  " 

Then  Murad  gave  an  order  to  his  soldiers  : 

"Arrest  them  all." 

240 


Near  the  Throne 


ajesty. 
Saracen, 
chance 


surgeon, 
on  the 


b 


;cl.     Now 
seen  that 


jar- — ■''  be- 


ers : 


The  three  men  and  the  three  women  were  placed 
in  the  line  of  arrest,  and  Fuad  held  out  his  hand 
to  receive  the  surrender  of  Captain  Balzar's  sword. 

"I  knew,  Monsieur,"  continued  Murad,  "you 
were  fond  of  high  living — so  the  jailer  has  pro- 
vided some  very  choice  game  for  your  supper,  to 
be  served  with  paper  sauce." 

The  last  two  words  came  with  such  contemptu- 
ous sarcasm  that  Balzar  started  back. 

Addressing  his  minion,  Murad  said: 

"  Permit  Monsieur  to  see  the  bird." 

Fuad  handed  a  dead  Antwerp  to  Balzar.  The 
blood  was  clotted  on  its  dun  feathers. 

"  You  recognize  the  pigeon.-*  "  asked  Murad. 

"The  carrier!"  exclaimed  Balzar — a  flood  of 
horrible  possibilities  crowding  his  brain. 

"  Fuad  is  a  very  good  shot,"  remarked  Murad. 

Looking  at  the  paper  Balzar  added  beneath  his 
breath  : 

"  And  my  note  to  Napoleon  !  " 

"You  sent  another  messenger  also,"  went  on 
the  usurper.  "  But  it  is  dangerous  to  try  to  de- 
ceive our  sentinels.  Two  of  the  best  marksmen 
shot  the  little  trooper  as  he,"  repeating  the  pro- 
noun with  a  sneer, — "  as  he  galloped  through  the 
gates." 

"  Can  it  be  true }  "  begged  Balzar. 

Ignoring  the  question  and  proceeding,  the  King 
asked,  holding  up  the  mantle  torn  as  though  in  a 
i6  241 


w^^immmm"'^^'' 


^ 


m 


"You  have  seen  the  cloak  before?" 


iv't 


'i 

'  f  i 

■  u 

IMJ 

Near  the  Throne 


scruggle:  "You  have  seen  the  cloak  before?" 
Then  showing  the  paper,  he  added:  "And  this 
passport  ? " 

Furious  at  thought  of  the  cruelty  Murad  was 
exulting  over,  Balzar  broke  in  : 

"  You  killed " 

"Silence!"  shouted  the  tyrant,  his  scowl  con- 
veying to  Marcel  the  consideration  that  this  was 
neither  the  time  nor  the  manner  for  Hassan  to  be 
informed  of  the  fate  which  had  befallen  Worda. 

Marcel  obeyed. 

Turning  to  Fuad  the  King  gave  order : 

"  Take  the  prisoners  to  the  Citadel.  Their  trial 
will  take  place  just  before  midnight." 

It  seemed  to  the  Captain  that  every  effort  to 
send  word  to  Napoleon  had  been  futile — and  fateful. 

Then  to  the  Chasseur  Murad  continued : 

"  As  for  you,  Balzar,  you  need  not  remain  in 
doubt— the  Nile  !     For  sure  this  time." 

"Murad,"  replied  Marcel  undaunted,  "you  can 
pursue  me,  you  can  put  me  in  irons — but  you  can- 
not kill  me." 

"By  Allah!"  laughed  the  King.  "My  word 
v/ill  do  it,  a  wave  of  my  hand." 

"  No  !     You  cannot,  with  all  your  power !  " 

"  You  seem  confident.  " 

Captain   Balzar  answered  quietly  with  a  deep 

and  subtle  meaning  which  a  sudden  intense  gleam 

of  lightning  appeared  to  accentuate  : 

243 


I  ■ 


■'■■^1 


M' 


i\ 


i       f 


»i 


ii 


f    ; 


\  li  'I 


1 


i. 


:' 


I ,  <.i- 


lil 


;1 


'  :!: 


I: 


!>  H'{ 


•  f 


k 


T 


Near   the  Throne 

**  I  have  a  great  trust  to  fulfil." 
"  Well,"  returned  the  Egyptian,  "  we  shall  see 
about  that." 

"  Yes,  Sire — you  spoke  the  truth  that  time !  " 
And  a  peal  of  thunder  crashed,    as  if  powers 


above  the  earth  were  in  sympathy  with  the  veiled 
prediction. 

"  yjalzar,  the  next  time  you  meet  me,  it  will  be 
near  the  throne." 

'*  No — Napoleon  is  king." 

"  Of  what  >  " 

"  Egypt." 

"  Who  crowned  him  ?  " 

"  Conquest !  " 

244 


T 


Near  the  Throne 


;hall  see 

time!" 
•   powers 


le  veiled 
:  will  be 


And  the  thunder  rattled  and  rumbled  along 
the  sky  like  the  cannon  of  the  army  of  France. 
Everyone  present  seemed  to  hear  again  the  roar 
of  the  guns  of  the  little  Corsican. 

*'  Monsieur,"  resumed  Murad. 

"Your  Majesty,"  answered  Halzar,  making 
obeisance,  apparently  in  deferential  interruption, 
but  really  in  scornful  contempt. 

"  Everything  is  against  you — even  the  storm." 

'*  But  it  shall  turn  against  you." 

Another  and  more  deafening  thunderbolt  was 
taken  by  some  of  the  prisoners  as  the  confirming 
of  this  daring  fulmination. 

"  Who  will  make  it  do  so.^*  "  asked  the  King. 

"I  will." 

"  You!     Ha,  ha!  "  was  Murad's  Satanic  sneer. 

"  Yes,  I — by  the  aid  of  heaven  !  " 

**  Heaven  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  repeated  the  Egyptian 
with  more  contempt  in  his  mocking  laugh. 

"And  Napoleon!  ",  replied  Captain  Balzar,  add- 
ing as  the  lightning  forked  with  portentous  fierce- 
ness :  "  They  fight  together !  God  and  the  heavy 
artillery  !  "  A  sharp  tremendous  crack  of  thunder 
shot  out  and  in  the  moment's  pause  IMarcel  went 
on :  "  They  will  tear  from  your  heart  that  to 
which  you  have  forfeited  the  right." 

"  What  ?  "  demanded  Murad,  not  immediately 
perceiving   the   meaning  of    this    ambiguous   and 

threatening  boast. 

245 


.\/ 


Near  the  Throne 


U    I 


But  Balzar's  quick  reply  made  every  doubt 
vanish  as  he  tore  the  decoration  from  the  Egyp- 
tian's breast : 

"The  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour!  " 
As  the  words  left  his  lips  three  terrific  chains 
of  tlame  dashed  through  the  black  sky  accom- 
panied by  a  direful  glare  of  supernatural  light  and 
a  triple  crash  of  thunder.  It  seemed  as  if  the  ele- 
ments were  commencing  to  bombard  a  world — 
booming  and  blazing  forth  the  league  against  that 
monstrous  usurper,  with  the  seal  of  fire ! 


h 


T 


doubt 
Egyp- 


chains 
accom- 
^ht  and 
:he  ele- 
^orld — 
ist  that 


FOURTH    INTERLOGUE 

ONE    HOUR    HAS    ELAl'SED 

Come,  fill  the  cup,  and  in  the  fire  of  spring 
The  winter  garments  of  repentance  fling : 
The  bird  of  time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  fly — and  lo — the  bird  is  on  the  wing. 

— Omar  Khayyam. 

Just  after  and  just  preceding  a  time  of  intense 
action  there  is  in  the  affairs  of  men,  as  on  the  sea, 
a  brief  space  of  simple  waiting.  But  the  smooth- 
ness of  the  waves  and  the  normal  movement  of 
the  tide  merely  emphasize  the  turmoil  that  has 
gone  and  seem  to  gather  force  for  the  storm  that 
is  to  come.  Power  may  be  latent,  but  as  it  is 
never  lost  so  it  is  never  idle :  somewhere  it  is  al- 
ways the  servant  of  a  creator  or  the  slave  of  a  de- 
stroyer. Both  Balzar  and  Murad,  having  exerted 
themselves  to  the  utmost  for  t\\c  accomplishment 
of  their  opposite  purposes,  were  resting  from  their 
work  and  submitting  to  the  temporary  calm — one 
knowing  and  the  other  fearing  that  it  was  only 
for  a  little  while  that  the  tempest  had  subsided. 
Balzar's  faith  in  himself  and  his  destiny  did  not 

desert  him  even  in  his  darkest  moments,  and  he 

247 


Near  the  Throne 


firmly  believed  that  if  this  was  the  hour  of  his 
final  breath  he  would  yet  be  able  to  bring  about 
the  punishment  and  death  of  the  two  still  remain- 
ing as  a  curse  to  the  earth  of  the  three  murderers. 
He  had  a  mighty  motive  and  it  was  an  irresistible 
inspiration :  to  win  the  woman  he  loved,  to  serve 
the  General  he  honoured  and  to  save  a  kingdom. 
Murad,  having  completed  with  consummate  ability 
every  detail  of  his  diabolic  plan,  was  possessed 
with  a  feeling  that  in  very  truth  he  was  at  last 
the  monarch  absolute  of  all  Egypt — and,  filled 
with  dreams  of  becoming  emperor  of  the  Orient, 
he  occupied  this  one  short  hour  by  complacently 
waiting  for  the  massacre. 


■! ;  II 


Sls^O^'sfi- 


'-■I 


l!    i'; 


of  his 
;  about 
emain- 
derers. 
sistible 
3  serve 
tigdom. 
ability 
ssessed 
at  last 
filled 
3rient, 
icently 


Book  3fiv>e 

TO   STOP  A   DESPOT 


'I 


1  i 


^,f ' 


1 1 


8,1  '■), 

;.  Mf 


■lii'l 


I 


ri 


M 


t  ii 


,1 ,  :| 


CHAPTER    I 


THE   JUDGE    AND    HIS    DESIRES 

A  grand  hall  in  the  Citadel  built  on  the  rocky 
eminence  overlooking  the  panoramic  city. 

At  the  farther  end  of  this  room,  made  more 
vast  by  the  height  of  its  ceiling,  coloured  faintly 
by  some  forgotten  artist  with  scenes  of  historic 
Egypt,  an  imposing  entrance  guarded  on  each  side 
by  a  miniature  Sphinx  of  basalt. 

Near  each  of  these  figures  two  fluted  pillars  of 
polished  granite,  and  a  small  window  of  stained 
glass  in  the  frescoed  wall.  Just  in  front  of  the 
windows  two  splendid  golden  candelabra  blazing 
with  light.  Around  the  walls  statues  in  Parian  and 
veined  Italian  marbles.  The  intricate  mosaic  floor 
designed  from  a  painting  of  the  Palace  of  Ptolemy. 

Beyond  this  entrance  and  across  a  corridor  a 
flight  of  seven  steps  leading  to  the  massive  doors, 
strengthened  by  great  bolts  and  bars  of  iron,  that 
swung  open  on  the  crest  of  the  hill.  They  were 
locked  tonight. 

To  the  left  of  the  entrance  to  the  hall  the  hid- 
den opening  to  a  secret  passage  winding  away  un- 
derground down  to  a  large  crack  in  a  huge  boulder 

251 


)\\ 


iV   ' 


Hill 


.  (. 


:*:;' 


lif 


I 


''  1 


¥>''<  .1 


Near  the  Throne 

where  the  declivity  is  steepest,  looking  out  upon 
the  tombs  of  the  Caliphs. 

Directly  opposite  this  hidden  opening  the 
throne  with  its  many  folds  of  silken  canopy  em- 
broidered in  gold  with  the  star  and  crescent. 
Near  by  to  the  right  a  gilded  table  at  which 
Osman,  raised  to  the  position  of  Chancellor  of  the 
realm,  was  writing  as  though  there  were  little  time 
and  much  to  be  done.  A  few  inches  from  the  ink 
jar  a  bell  that  tinkled  with  a  silvery  sound.  The 
length  of  a  musket  in  front  was  spread  the  skin 
of  a  huge  tiger,  its  claws  clutched,  its  eyes  glaring. 
Murad,  proud  of  mien  and  regal  in  purple,  the 
crown  of  the  Pharaohs  on  his  brow  and  their 
sceptre  in  his  hand,  was  seated  on  the  throne. 

As  an  immediate  bodyguard  four  Nubians,  in 
skins  of  leopards,  stood  ready  with  pointed  spears. 
And  beside  each  pillar  stood  a  Mameluke. 

It  was  the  King  who  spoke  as  his  loyal  minion 
looked  up  from  his  congenial  work  to  listen  with 
a  servility  that  was  at  once  fawning  and  fraternal : 

"This  will  be  a  great  night,  Osman." 

The  astrologer  looked  acquiescence  and  an- 
swered in  a  congratulatory  tone  : 

"  It  will,  your  Majesty.  The  trial,  the  death  of 
Balzar,  the  massacre — after  that }  " 

"Nazira!"  was  the  usurper's   reply.      "Away 

with  crowns  and  things  of  state,  we'll  give  the 

hours  to  pleasure. " 

252 


Near  the  Throne 


(t 


It 


Hut  for  the  present, 
Yes,  the  prisoners. 


Sire  r 
Send  for  them 


Fuad,'    ordered  Osman,  "bring  in  the  prison- 


ers. 


"All  except  Balzar.  '  added  Murad,  as  the 
Mameluke  saluted  and  left  the  room. 

"  While  we  wait,  'said  the  King—"  some  music.  ' 

Osman  rang  the  bell  on  his  table.  A  slave 
instantly  appeared. 

"  Send  the  dancers  and  musicians,    commanded 

the  Chancellor. 

Making  a  profound  salaam  the  slave  hastened  to 

obey, 

"  Everything  is  ready  for  the  punishment  of 
these  foreign  rats?  '^   inquired  the  King. 

"  Yes,  Sire— everything.  * 

"  The  signal .?  ' 

*'The  twelfth  stroke  of  the   great  bell  in  the 

dome. 

**  Allah  is  good ! 

Then  the  tripping  of  sandalled  feet  was  heard 
along  the  corridor  and  the  musicians  and  dancing 
girls  came  in.  To  the  seductive  melody  of  the 
lutes  fairylike  houris,  thinly  veiled  and  draped  in 
bright  coloured  silks  with  dangling  bells  on  their 
anklets,  glided  and  swayed. 

The  King  applauded. 

In  response  they  threw  aside  their  veils  and 
going  through   new   evolutions    danced   with   the 

253 


Near  the  Throne 


'    ,■     <! 


[I  : 


,:i 


i.- 1 


most  graceful  and  enchanting  abandon,  never 
unmindful  of  the  truth  that  suggestion  is  always 
more  tempting  than  revelation. 

As  the  dance  concluded  F  lad  returned  vith  the 
prisoners :  Nazira,  Hassan,  Lucine,  Antoinette, 
Carmier,  Taschereau. 

"  Refreshment  for  the  dancers  and  bring  Balzar," 
ordered  the  King. 

Fuad  hastened  to  bring  the  Captain. 

Hassan  and  his  daughter  were  standing  close  to 
the  seven  steps. 

Murad  motioned  the  girl  to  draw  nearer. 

She  obeyed,  thinking  that  conciliation  was  the 
wisest  if  not  the  only  course. 

"Nazira,"  he  ^aid  to  her  so  low  that  neither 
her  father  nor  anyone  else  could  hear,  "  in  a  little 
while  I  intend  asking  you  some  questions,  I  want 
you  to  answer  yes  to  everything.  If  you  do,  it 
will  be  well.  But  the  instant  you  give  any  other 
answer  your  father  will  be  shot." 

"Your  Majesty,"  she  replied,  "this  is  n(<t  fair. 
It  is  some  injustice  you  wish  to " 

"  I  h^rve  no  time  to  discuss  the  matter,"  he 
answered. 

"But,  Sire " 

"  Remember,"  he  said  with  finality. 

Nazira  was  helpless  and  aln:ost  hopeless,  though 
she  recalled  the  rumour  of  what  Marcel  was  re- 
ported  to  have  said  to  the  Pasha  that  evening  in 

254 


Near  the  Throne 


never 
always 

ith  the 
)inette, 

alzar," 


lose  to 

as  the 

leither 
a  little 
I  want 
do,  it 
r  Other 

't  fair. 

r,"   he 


hough 
as  re- 
\\\g  in 


front  of  the  Palace  of  Saladin — that  he  had  a  great 
trust  to  fulfil ;  and  sometimes  with  a  shudder  the 
young  Egyptian  imagined  what  her  lover  meant 
by  the  threat.  And  she  knew  his  pledge  was  not 
yet  redeemed. 

Murad  turned  from  regarding  Nazira.  For  a 
few  moments  the  Saracen  seemed  to  be  in  deep 
and  earnest  thought :  his  forefinger  crept  to  his 
lips  and  a  faraway  look  came  into  his  eyes.  It 
may  have  been  that  he  was  wondering  what  this 
decisive  night  was  destined  to  show  him  of  his 
fate,  or  it  may  have  been  that  he  was  thinking  of 
the  injury  he  had  done  to  this  girl's  sister — and 
perhaps  thereby  to  himself.  More  than  half  the 
trouble  in  the  world  is  caused  by  a  man  loving  the 
wrorig  woman  or  a  woman  loving  the  right  man  at 
the  wrong  time. 

The  slave  reappeared  with  a  tray  of  goblets  of 
sherbet  which  were  served  as  IVIurad,  turning  to 
Osman,  asked : 

"  Have  you  the  nam  j*.''  " 
Handing  a  scroll  the  Chancellor  answered: 
•*  I  have  prepared  a  list  of  the  accused." 
•*  Of  the  guilty,"  corrected  the  usurper. 
'*  It  was  an  error  of  the  tongue,  Sire." 
Murad  read  the  document  carefully,  pausing  a 
moment  over  each  name  to  think  of  the  sentence 
that  in  each  case  would  best  serve  his  sinister  ends. 
And  he  looked  lung  at  the  name  of  Marcel  Palzar. 

255 


•i  '\ 


1^  / 


II 


CHAPTER    II 


THE    LUCK    Ol-     THE    MERRIEST 


\  ■' 


I:  I 


Taschereau  and  Carmier  were  standing  to- 
gether at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  uncon- 
sciously near  the  panel  of  the  secret  passage. 

"These  are  worse  than  tight  boots,"  complained 
the  elder  Frenchman  glancing  at  the  chains  that 
held  him  securely.     "  Sapristi !  " 

"What's  the  matter.^"  said  the  Gascon,  ner- 
vously trying  to  adjust  his  monocle. 

"  Do  you  know  a  good  cure  for  corns?  " 

"Yes I  D-d-drop  this  on  them,'"  laughed  the 
blond  Alphonse  lifting  the  weight  fastened  to  his 
own  ankle. 

"  I  don't  like  that  3'oung  man,"  remarked  the 
old  journalist  to  himself. 

"  I  say,  Plutarque — do  you  know  a  g-g-good 
cure  for  th-th-thirst  .-*  " 

"A  sure  one,"  returned  the  genial  secretary, 
anxious  to  even  accounts  and  nesting  his  com- 
panion's inquisitive  look. 

"What  is  it.?" 

"  Stop  drinking." 

256 


Near  the  Throne 


I 


"Do  you  think  there's  any  danger?  "  the  fear- 
ful Antoinette  chimed  in. 

"  Danger?  "  repeated  the  revokitionist. 

"  Didn't  you  hear  her?  "  snickered  the  faultless 
youth. 

"With    me    here?"     asketl     the    philosopher. 

"  Well,  I  should — but "'  glancing  at  the  balls 

attached  to  his  feet — "  there's  such  a  weight  on 
my  mind — understand?  " 

"No,  I  don't,"  admitted  Mademoiselle  Fleury. 

"I'll  wager  five  francs,"  Taschereau  ran  on, 
"  I  can  guess  the  colour  of  the  top  stripe  of  your 
stocking." 

"Done,"  she  answered  promptly. 

"  Blue,"  he  ventured. 

"  Wrong !  ' 

"  Prove  it." 

"There!  '  she  returned  giving  him  a  sound 
box  on  the  ears. 

Monsieur  Carmier  had  been  edging  nearer  to 
Mademoiselle  Chaumont. 

"I  thought,"  the  Provencal  sakid  to  him  inter- 
rogatively, "  yom  were  such  a  timkl  sort  of  j  man  ?  " 

"  P-p-precise  V.      N-n-not  particularly.     Why?" 

"  Tinette  said  you  were  afraid  to  kiss  a  girl." 

Lucine  was   so  naive   that  such  a  frank  remark 
from   her  called  up  all    Carmier's  reserve  fund  of 
astonishment.     He  ciidcavourcd  to  relate  this  ac- 
cusation, but  not  quite  satisfactorily  though  they 
15  257 


n 


(  ; 


•  1 


1 


.11 


1" 


''8 


"I 

'(:■■  I 

iiili 


Near  the  Throne 

were  at  court.  Taking  her  hand  he  gently  touched 
it  with  his  lips. 

"There's  a  place  for  everything,"  Lucine  sug- 
gested. 

Alphonse  took  the  hint.     Then  he  asked : 

"Why  do  you  1-1-look  so  s-s-sad.!*  " 

"That  may  be  the  last,"  she  sighed. 

"Oh,  n-n-no!  '  he  protested,  convincing  her 
that  he  had  learned  his  lesson  quickly.  Then 
standing  back  a  bit,  and  contemplating  her  with  a 
grateful  expression,  he  dropped  his  monocle  and 
said  :  "  Th-that  was  a  c-clcver  idea !  " 

At  this  moment  Fuad  and  another  Mameluke 
returned  with  Captain  Balzar.  Lo  Beau  Sabreur 
stopped  still  a  moment  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 
He  looked  sullen,  but  determined;  despondency 
never  masters  such  a  mind.  He  glanced  at  the 
King  and  at  Nazira.  Then  ho  came  forward  and 
stood  near  the  throne — ready. 


I 


it 


t: 


sug- 


CHAPTER    III 


A    COURT    WITH    NO    APPEAL 

"  I  heard  Monsieur  admires  the  dance,"  said 
the  King  as  the  prisoner  waited  for  him  to  speak. 
"  Sometimes,  Sire,"  replied  Marcel. 
"Very  well,  Monsieur.  This  shall  be  one  of 
those  times,"  answered  Murad.  "  And  better  than 
the  prettiest  revel  you  ever  saw — even  in  Paris  at 
the  Cafe  La  Fille  d'Or."  Then  to  the  houris  he 
added:   "Again." 

The  girls  took  a  few  steps,  but  at  a  signal  from 
the  throne  the  fingers  on  the  strings  soon  quick- 
ened their  touch  and  they  formed  a  whirling  rain- 
bow. And  their  swaying— the  captivation  of  it, 
the  rhythm,  so  beautiful :  it  was  poetry  revealing 
its  soul  in  movement  and  colours. 

Then  one  of  the  ghawazzic  entered  with  a  cobra, 
which  she  had  charmed,  twined  around  her  body. 
Gliding  to  the  centre  of  the  circle  she  fastened  her 
sensual  eyes  upon  Marcel,  and  to  the  low  chanting 
of  the  almehs  and  the  carnal  music  of  the  lutes, 
danced  with  a  writhing  motion  that  was  full  of 
suggestion,  while  the  crawling  snake  wound  itself 
about  her  neck  and  outstretched  wanton  arms. 

259 


)'\ 


n 


i\  ''A 


Near  the  Throne 


;i 


As  she  drew  near  13alzar,  he  turned  away  and  said : 

"The  emblem  of  poison  and  death." 

"Monsieur  does  not  seem  to  enjoy  the  dance,", 
remarked  Murad. 

*'  Not  when  your  hired  assassins  are  already " 

"Not  assassins,"  interrupted  the  usurper — 
"soldiers*." 

"In  such  an  hour  as  this,"  replied  Balzar, 
"  when  murder  is  the  game,  the  soldier's  but  the 
bloodhound  of  the  King. " 

"Then  we  must  lose  no  time." 

The  astrologer  waved  to  the  dancers  and  musi- 
cians to  leave  the  chamber. 

They  obeyed. 

"Osman,"  said  Murad,  "read  the  names  and  I 
shall  pronounce  the  sentences." 

The  Chancellor  took  up  a  sheet  of  paper  from 
his  table  and  commenced  the  list : 

"Hassan." 

"  Discharged,"  said  the  King,  "  I  grant  him  full 
liberty." 

"Discharged,"  repeated  the  old  man  writing 
slowly  with  his  scratchy  quill  opposite  the  first 
name.     Then  he  resumed  the  reading : 

"Taschereau." 

"And  the  next.?" 

"Carmier." 

"And  the  rest  of  the  brood,"  Murad  broke  in, 

"what  shall  we  do  with  them.!*  " 

260 


Near  the  Throne 


"Ah "    reflected  Osman  hesitating;   "You 

might " 

"Banish  them — that's  it,"  decided  the  arbitrary 
judge. 

Osman  took  his  pen  again,  writing  opposite  the 
second  and  following  names : 

"  Banishment  for " 

"  For  life,"  Murad  said  in  answer  to  his  glance 
of  inquiry.      "  Except  Nazira  and  Balzar.  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  Chancellor  waiting  with  his 
quill  dipped  in  the  ink  to  hear  what  he  should  set 
down  for  them. 

"  For  Nazira "  continued  Murad. 

"Nazira,"  repeated  Osman,  the  point  of  his 
pen  at  the  end  of  her  name. 

"  Imprisonment,"  was  the  sentence. 
"  Murad  !  "  exclaimed  Balzar. 
"  You  dare  not,"  said  Nazira. 
But  they  and  their  protests  were  ignored. 
"  Imprisonment,"  wrote  Osman.     Then  looking 
up  to  his  master,  he  said  questioningly  :  "  Balzar  ?  " 
"Balzar!"  repeated  Murad.     "The  adventurer 
from  the  North  disguised  under  a  score  of  names : 
the  gallant,  the  physician,   ^.he  soldier,  the  deaf 
beggar,  the  holy  monk— the  spy,  the  prisoner,  my 
enemy  who  from  the  shores  of  the  Seine  has  jour- 
neyed to  meet  his  fate  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile ! 
What  would  be  suitable?  " 

"  You  said " 

261 


;  ii 


i^ 


I  I 


u 


Near  the  Throne 


'  I 


"  I  remember.  There's  only  one  thing  for 
him — and  he  will  get  it — death.  " 

"Oh,  no!"  said  the  Captain  with  courteous 
confidence.      "  Not  yet.     After  you,  Sire." 

"Balzar,"  wrote  Osman,  "death." 

"  To  be  shot "  Murad  went  on,  pausing  to 

think  a  moment. 

"There  will  be  metal  in  me  then,"  laughed 
Marcel  to  Carmier. 

"At  sunrise,"  said  the  King. 

And  Osman  wrote  opposite  the  name  of  Captain 
Marcel  Balzar : 

"To  be  shot  at  sunrise." 

"No,"  added  Murad  on  second  thought, 
"change  it.     That  is  too  far  off." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Osman,  waiting  for  the  decision. 

"At  midnight,"  resolved  the  tyrannous  King — 
"on  the  last  stroke  of  the  bell  in  the  dome." 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"Write  that." 

"Yes,  Sire." 

"  Perhaps,  Monsieur, "  continued  Murad,  "  would 
like  some  refreshment  before  going  to  his  execu- 
tion .?  " 

"Your  Majesty  is  most  kind,"  said  l^alzar. 

"  A  drink  for  Le  l^eau  Sabreur,"  ordered  Murad. 

And  Balzar  added  to  Taschereau  : 

"There's  one  thing  about  Murad's  wine." 

"What's  that  .-^  "  asked  Plutarque. 

26  2 


;:  I 


Near  the  Throne 


ig  for 

rteous 

ing  to 
lughed 

Captain 

lought, 

3cision. 
King— 


With  a  shrug  the  physician  answered : 
''  You  always  know  what  you're  drinking." 
Having  filled  the  goblet  the  slave  handed  it  to 

the  Captain. 

He  raised  it  to  his  lips,  then  hesitated. 
''Are  you  not  thirsty?  "   asked  the  King. 
"  Yes,  Sire." 
"Then  drink." 

Looking   right    into   the    eyes    of    Murad   and 
throwing  the  liquid  away,  Marcel  replied : 

"  No— thank  you.    I  might  miss  the  execution." 

"  Give  me  the  wine,"  said  the  King. 

The  slave  poured  two  more  goblets  and  obeyed. 

Murad  drank  from  the  second. 

"Now,  Monsieur,"  he  said. 

Balzar  took  the  third  goblet. 

"  You  shall  propose  the  toast !  "  said  tlie  Saracen. 

Both  men  lifted   the  cups,  and  Captain   Balzar 

replied : 

"  To  Napoleon  I  " 


!  t 


"  would 
execu- 

ar. 
Murad. 


■i 


u  ^;|l 


II' 


i 


CHAPTER    IV 


TWO    PRACTICAL    DREAMERS 


P/^i 


"Are  you  prepared?"  asked  Murad  indignant 
at  this  impudent  affront,  but  waiting  his  time. 

"I  am  always  ready,"  replied  l^alzar  with  cool 
composure  and  glancing  at  Fuad  as  if  to  remind 
him  of  the  night  when  he  heard  that  sane  answer 
in  front  of  the  Palace  of  Saladin. 

"One  question,"  said  Murad.  "  Do  you  know 
if  I^onaparte  has  reached  Palestine.'*  " 

"  I  do,"  was  the  straightforward  reply. 

"  Tell  me. " 

"  Why  should  I .?  " 

Murad  was  never  slow  in  supplying  motives. 

"  I  will  change  your  sentence,"  he  said. 
"Come — tell  me  that." 

But  Balzar  replied  quietly  though  firmly : 

"  I  am  neither  the  valet  nor  the  spy  of  your 
Majesty.  I  am  a  Captain  in  the  army  of  Na- 
poleon— who  is  to  be  the  l^mperor  of  P>ance!  " 

"  Your  Corsican,"  replied  the  King,  "may  have 

already  found  the  sands   of   S^ria  as  fatal  as  he 

may  yet  find  the  snows  of  Russia." 

264 


Near   the  Throne 


Both  men  had  seemingly  c[uite  forgotten  the 
night  the  little  artilleryman  forced  the  remnant 
that  still  lives  of  their  cavalry  to  retreat  by  Gizeh 
into  upper  Egypt  and  the  Sahara,  leaving  to  the 
conquerors  the  rich  alluvial  rovinces  irrigated  by 
the  Nile. 

Osman  was  waiting,  pen  in  hand. 

The  tyrant  turned  to  the  Chancellor. 

"Monsieur's  sentence,"  he  said,  "remains  as  it 
is  Vv^ritten. " 

"  Am  I  to  be  shot  like  a  common  assassin.-*  " 

"  As  you  are  such — yes !  " 

"  Do  you  fear  me.-*  " 

"Why  should  I .''  "  coolly  responded  the  T^gyp- 
tian,  repeating  the  Frenchman's  own  words. 

"You  do,"  insisted  Balzar. 

"  I  .^  "  answered  the  King  with  a  gesture  toward 
his  guards.      "  Fear  you  ?     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

"Then  let  me  die  like  a  soldier." 

"  I  will  let  you  die  like  a  dog  I  " 

"  Call  out  your  best  fighters  and  T  will  meet 
them  all,  man  by  man." 

"No!"  was  the  unhesitating  announcement. 
"You  are  to  be  killed  my  way.  1  am  going  to 
humble  you  all  to  the  dust." 

"You  have  almost  humbled  us  already,"  ad- 
mitted Marcel.     "  Are  you  c(^ntent  ?  " 

"Not  yet.      But   I   shall  be  soon.     In  half  an 

hour  you    will    be   among   the   great  ones,"    the 

265 


ii' 


Near  the  Throne 


h        •  )' 


1      I 


II'  ' 


At- 


usurper  said  sarcastically,  "  who  have  gone  be- 
fore.     And  Nazira  shall  be  here  with  me  to  enjoy.  " 

"Never!" 

"Because.?  " 

"  It  is  my  will,"  said  Halzar  with  a  smile. 

"  This  is  absurd." 

''Absurd  or  not,"  the  surgeon  responded  toss- 
ing back  his  head  and  with  every  muscle  tense: 
**  It  is  my  will  I  You  shall  not  touch  her.  I  for- 
bid you  I  " 

''You,"  exclaimed  Murad  rising  with  indigna- 
tion, **a  prisoner — forbid  the  King.'*  " 

"  It's  not  the  crown  that  makes  the  King.  It's 
the  heart." 

"What  I  wish,  I  do,"  said  the  Arabian  resum- 
ing his  seat  and  unmindful  of  the  truth  that  has 
found  verification  in  many  a  royal  palace  that  he 
who  climbs  high  falls  heavily. 

"  Have  you  no  humanity.?  " 

"  Nothing  but  equity." 

"  You  use  the  wrong  name.  Sire. " 

"  I  should  say .?  " 

"Lust!" 

"  You  waste  our  time.  Three  minutes  now  and 
our  soldiers  begin  to  blot  the  name  of  France  from 
Egypt.     Fuad,  remove  the  prisoners."     * 

The  Mameluke  proceeded  at  once  to  do  so. 

"A  moment,"   interposed    Balzar  appealing  to 

Murad. 

266 


Near  the  Throne 


])e- 


ijoy 


toss- 
lense : 


It's 


The  Kinj^  granted  his  request,  aiul  waved  I-'uad 
aside. 

"You  will  not  do  this  thing,"  continued  the 
Captain,  "  mas.^acre  all  those  innocent  people?  " 

"  Men,  women,  and  children.  " 

And  Osman  added : 

**  That  was  the  order  to  our  soldiers." 

"And  they  always  obey,"  said  Murad  casting 
an  approving  smile  at  the  line  of  Mamelukes. 
"They  will  cut  the  French  up  like  gourds!  " 

As  if  in  confirmation  of  this  statement  there 
sounded  from  the  distance  the  shrieks  of  the  help- 
less and  the  yells  of  the  heartless.  The  Arabians 
could  not  wait  for  the  signal. 

"Think  again,"  said  Balzar  placing  close  to- 
gether his  hands  with  the  fingers  and  thumbs 
clutched  and  glancing  at  the  astrologer's  throat, 
"near  the  throne  are  many  flatterers." 

"  May  Allah  change  you  into  a  dog!  "  burst  out 
the  angered  Moslem,  casting  aside  his  dignity  as 
Chancellor. 

"  And  may  he " 

"This  man  should  be  silenced,"  the  ]5ey  ex- 
claimed again,  appealing  to  INIurad. 

"Surely,"  Marcel  began  to  plead. 

"  I  have  said  it,"  replied  the  King. 

"Murad "    the    Captain    continued    trying 

again  to  make  an  appeal. 

"  That  is  my  decree.  " 

267 


Near   the  Throne 


Murad !  "  burst  out  l^alzar,  advancing:  menac- 


1      ',        1.3 


irii 


!     ■» 


in 


giy- 


of  the  foi 


Instantly  the  spears  oi  tne  rour  guards  were 
pointed  in  defense  of  the  King  and  the  muskets 
of  the  Mamelukes  were  levelled. 

"Calm  yourself,  Monsieur,"  said  Murad  lolling 
back  in  conscious  security.  "  Let  me  tell  you  of 
a  dream  I  had — it  may  help  you  to  be  more  re- 
signed." 

"  I  am  a  prisoner,  Sire.  I  am  listening.  I  too 
had  a  dream." 

"  Sleeping  last  night  in  the  Palace  of  Saladin," 
Murad  went  on,  "while  you  were  in  the  subter- 
raiiean  dungeon,  I  dreamed  I  saw  a  black  coffin. 
On  it,  dressed  in  the  ragged  uniform  of  a  Captain 
of  the  Twentieth  Chasseurs,  was  a  man  shot 
through  the  head.  Above  it  perched  a  black  hawk 
called — Defeat.  And  on  the  coffin  was  written  : 
Marcel  Balzar.  The  dream  widened.  Defeat  was 
swooping  down  and  alighting  upon  the  forces  of 
Bonaparte.  I  saw  your  navy  afire  at  Alexandria, 
its  ships  destroyed  by  the  ]3riti  h;  your  army  im- 
prisoned in  my  country,  starved,  poisoned,  dying  by 
thousands.  The  streets  of  our  cities  were  strewn 
with  the  tricolour,  the  sands  of  the  desert  were 
spotted  with  the  bones  of  your  soldiers,  bleaching 
in  our  tropic  sun.  I  saw  the  eagles  of  France 
crushed  by  the  hoofs  of  the  Mamelukes  with  their 

plumed   turbans    galloping    to  victory,   the   cross 

268 


Near   the  Throne 


hienac- 

were 

luskets 

[lolling 
(you  of 
)re  re- 

I  too 

ladin," 
subter- 

coffin. 

aptain 

.  shot 
k  hawk 
ritten : 
Jat  was 
ces  of 
mdria, 
ny  i ril- 
ing by 
itrewn 

were 
iching 
'>ance 
I  their 

cross 


thrown  down,  the  crescent  uplifted — every  Euro- 
pean in  the  land,  under  the  curse  of  Allah,  mas- 
sacred, and  floating  over  all  the  con.([uering  flag  of 
Egypt  and  her  King." 

"With  such  a  prospect,"  reasoned  liilzar, 
"surely  you  can  afford  to  show  mercy." 

"  I  said  no  mercy,"  answered  the  relentless 
Saracen.  "  But  I  pity  you  and  the  poor  wretches 
with  you. " 

"Pity  them.?" 

"Yes." 

"  While  you  are  waiting  for  the  signal  from  the 
dome.''  " 

"Certainly.      Why  not.?" 

"  When  your  hands  are  eager  for  the  shedding 
of  their  blood.?  " 

"  Yes.  ' 

"You  pity  them.?  As  a  cat  pities  the  mouse 
bleeding  beneath  its  paws.  As  a  serpent  pities 
the  bird  trembling  beneath  its  fangs.  As  a  vul- 
ture pities  the  squirrel  struggling  beneath  its 
talons.  As  a  tiger  pities  the  babe  torn  beneath 
its  claws,  As  a  demon  pities  a  mortal  thrown  to 
hell  I     Oh  !  how  you  do  pity  them  !  " 

"You  grow  warm,  Monsieur.  Again  I  say: 
calm  yourself." 

"And  your  Majesty  believes  his  dream.?  " 

"  Why  not?" 

Balzar,  like  many  an  astute  parliamentarian  on 

269 


Near  the  Throne 


•:iil  f 


U 


I   ' 


the  side  of  the  minority,  knew  his  only  hope  lay 
in  gaining  time  by  delay  and  ui  this  way  postpon- 
mg  action  on  the  part  of  his  adversary. 

"Think,  Sire,"  he  proceeded,  "to  what  heights 
and  depths  dreams  i.ave  led.  Those  unreal 
beckoners  have  inspired  men  to  greatness  and 
lured  them  on  to  ruin  Nero  dreamed  beside  the 
Tiber,  and  Rome  burned.  Cleopatra  dreamed  be- 
sidt;  the  Nile,  and  I^gypt  flourished.  Dreamers! 
A  soldier  dreams  :  he  hears  foaming  horses  rush 
to  the  charge  and  sees  a  score  of  glittering  medals 
on  his  breast.  A  lawyer  dreams  :  he  hears  a  uni- 
verse squabbling  and  sees  a  cyclone  of  briefs.  A 
showman  dreams  :  he  hears  the  rattle  of  a  hundred 
chariot  races  and  sees  a  wilderness  of  tinselled 
monkeys.  A  musician  dreams  :  he  sees  his  hair 
grow  three  feet  long  and  hears  an  orchestra  of 
virtuosi  play  his  opera.  A  farmer  dreams:  he 
hears  the  sweet  grunting  of  his  greasy  pigs  and 
sees  a  thousand  leagues  of  ripening  cornfields,  A 
lover  dreams  :  he  sees  two  melting  eyes  smile  into 
his  and  hears  a  soft  voice  whisper.  Dreamers! 
Mahomet  dreamed  :  he  thought  he  built  up  a  new 
snrine  for  mankind  to  bow  before.  V^oltaire 
dreamed:  he  thought  he  tore  down  an  old  altar  for 
the  world  to  scoff  at.      Dreamers!  " 

"Go  on,  Monsieur,  you   amuse  us,"  interposed 

Murad. 

"Julius   Ciesar  dreamed,"  said   Halzar  obeying 

270 


Near  the  Throne 


be  lay 
Utpon- 

leights 
unreal 
s   and 
ide  the 
ed  be- 
amers ! 
;s  rush 
medals 
a  uni- 
fs.      A 
undred 
nselled 
lis  hair 
stra  of 
ns :   he 
gs  and 
is.     A 
le  into 
amers ! 
a  new 
oltaire 
tar  for 

rposed 

)eying 


willingly:  "he  heard  the  tramp  of  legions,  saw 
the  glisten  of  their  spears — and  he  made  his  way 
to  empire.  I^ut  our  own  Louis  dreamed  :  he  saw 
oppression  crowned,  heard  the  knell  of  freedom 
ring — and  he  made  his  way  to  the  guillotine." 
"Enough,  Monsieur,"  said  the  King. 
"  May  I  tell  your  Majesty  of  my  own  dream  ^  " 
asked  Marcel,  still  anxious  to  gain  time  by  any 
means. 

"Go  on,"  said  Alurad.      "It  may  entertain  us 
while  we  wait  for  the  hour." 

"True — while  you  wait  for  the  hour." 
"  Go  on  with  the  c'ream,  Monsieur.  " 
"  When  you  were  sleeping  last  night  in  the 
Palace,  your  head  resting  on  a  pillow  of  down  and 
silk,  and  while  I  was  lying  in  your  prison,  my  head 
on  a  stone,  I  could  not  sleep  for  the  drip,  drip, 
drip  of  the  water.  So  mine  was  a  wakirig  dream. 
I  heard  the  deadly  crack  of  our  muskets  and  the 
cannon  of  XajK^leon  booming  at  your  frontier.  I 
heard  the  songs  of  our  battalions  marching  past  the 
pyramids,  and  saw  their  phinius  waving  uj)  your 
crimson  streets.  I  saw  the  colours  of  iMance  /lying 
on  your  walls,  her  eagles  glittering  on  your  Citadel. 
I  saw  u  ^lood  red  glare — it  was  the  flames  licking 
upward  on  your  gilded  palaces.  I  heard  a  ponder- 
ous crash — it  was  the  tumbling  of  your  minarets 
and  domes.  Then  my  dream  narrowed.  I  saw  a 
throne — this   throne;    at   one  side  was   a   broken 


271 


Near  the   Throne 


sceptre,  al  the  other  a  shattered  crown.  Before 
the  throne  a  dead  king  was  lying  head  downward 
on  the  stained  steps,  for  the  curse  of  God  was  on 
him  and  his  star  had  set  forever.  Above,  with 
his  heel  tramped  to  the  heart  of  that  bleeding 
body  and  holding  on  high  a  sword  of  vengeance, 
was  standing  a  soldier  of  France.  And  the  name 
of  that  king  was — " 

"  Let  the  jest  end  !  "   shouted  Murad. 


:  M  i 


Ii^ 


.'" 


'  1'  ■! 


s 


f 

till 

,11' 


< 


S        !) 


]  before 
)vvnward 
was  on 
ve,  with 
bleeding 
igeance, 
le  name 


CHAPTER   V 


SABRE    AGAINST    SCIMITAR 


Suddenly  the  usurper's  attention  was  arrested 
by  a  noise  from  across  the  room — it  sounded  like 
the  moving  of  an  iron  grating.  The  Bey  and 
others  noticed  it  too. 

''  The  entrance  to  the  secret  passage,  Osman. 
Is  it  shut?"   inquired  Murad. 

*' Shall  I  send  Fuad?" 

**  See  to  it  yourself." 

The  Chancellor    went    quickly    to    the    hidden 

panel. 

There  was  so  much  mystery  and  plotting  and 
murder  in  this  Palace,  Nazira's  hand  involuntarily 
clutched  her  bosom,  as  she  stepped  back  to  make 
way  for  the  astrologer. 

Osman  pressed  the  spring,  the  panel  opened 
slowly,  and  he  disappeared  ra  the  darkness  of  the 

passage. 

Nazira's  fingers  felt  something  of  a  different 
texture  from  her  dress—sought  it  —a  note— glanced 
furtively  at  the  writing.      It  was  from  her  sister. 

Her  father  was  watching  her. 
l8  273 


■ 
■ 

,,,    , 

■     i'.'! 

1    '         1 

r    \l'    ' 

1    '    '^    . 

^  1  ..  ;:    ' 

1   ' '  ' 

f 

t 

m. 


I  ? 


Near  the  Throne 

One  brief  look  sufficed  to  scan  its  contents. 

"  It  was  Murad !  "  she  exclaimed  beneath  her 
breath. 

As  she  put  the  paper  back  in  the  bosoni  of  her 
gown  an  awful  yell  came  echoing  from  the  wind- 
ing secret  passage,  and  Osman  stumbled  into  the 
room  scarcely  able  to  stand. 

"Worda!"  he  declared,  half  fainting  and 
clinging  to  a  short  blade  which  he  had  evidently 
wrested  from  his  assailant.  **  She  has  stabbed 
me — with " 

''My  poniard!"  said  Balzar  completing  the 
sentence. 

The  astrologer  sank  to  the  floor  trying  hard  to 
crawl  nearer  the  steps. 

The  Mamelukes  and  Nubians  stood  motionless 
but  prepared. 

**  She  has  killed  me  !  "  gasped  the  old  fox.  And 
he  fell  dead  at  the  foot  of  the  throne. 

"Justice!"  said  Balzar  pointing  to  the  body 
with  two  fingers. 

The  King  came  down  to  the  thing  that  had 
served  him  so  faithfully,  placed  its  cloak  over  the 
face,  and  two  of  the  Mamelukes  bore  it  away 

While  this  was  going  on  Nazira  gave  the  note 
to  her  father,  saying : 

*'  From  Worda. " 

Looking  at  it,  Hassan  said  to  himself: 

"Marcel  innocent."     Then  he    read  again  the 

274 


Near  the  Throne 


ents. 
leath  her 

m  of  her 

the  wind- 

into  the 

ing    and 

evidently 

stabbed 

ting    the 

^  hard  to 

lOtionless 

)x.     And 

the  body 

that    had 
over  the 
A^ay 
the  note 


gain  the 


message  to  his  daughter.      "  It  was  IMiirad  who 

betrayed  me." 

From  a  distant  part  of  the  city  came  sounds  of 

Egyptian  music.     Murad  knew  it  was  his  bands 

arousing  to  the  work  of  assassination  and  carnage. 

"Come,     Nazira,    come,"     he    said    advancing 

toward  the  girl. 

"  No !  "   she  said  shrinking  back  from  him. 
"  Tonight— tonight !  "   urged  Murad. 
"Father,"  she  pleaded,  "you  will  not  let  him 
take  me  from  you." 
"  No,  my  child." 

Hassan  took  his  daughter's  hands  in  his.  Her 
eyes  moistened  and  there  fell  upon  his  trembling 
wrist  a  burning  tear  of  gratitude. 

As  if  in  mockery  the  great  bell  in  the  dome  of 
the  Citadel  rang  out— stroke  one. 

"The  hour  has  come,"  said  the  King  rejoicing 
as  he  Ustened  a  moment  to  the  shrill  sound  of  the 
distant  shots  and  shouts  : 

"Allah!     Mamelukes!     Murad!" 
"  It  is  the  signal,"  said  the  tyrant. 
Balzar  was  listening  too. 
Then  to  Fuad,  Murad  added  : 
"  Conduct  her  to  the  chamber  of  the  King." 
"Let  them  dare!"   broke    in   Halzar  springing 
forward.      "Bear  witness,  all.      Before  heaven,   I 
swear  that  I  will  kill  this  viper!  " 

The  guards  stood  ready  to  thrust  the  prisoner. 

.    275 


-J<"  1^, ■«!.■■ 


I  ( 


!*iii  n' 


il'l 


III ' 


U     III 


t 


.ipJ 


Near  the  Throne 

"Put  up  your  bayonets,"  said  Muracl  to  them, 
"  Le  Beau  Sabreur  forgets." 

"  I  remember  much,  your  Majesty." 

"But  you  forget  one  thing." 

Again  the  bell  in  the  dome  rang  out — stroke 
two. 

"  And  that  is.^*  "  asked  the  Captain. 

"An  Egyptian  prerogative,"  was  the  answer  of 
the  monarch,  rising  to  his  feet  and  unsheathing  a 
gleaming  piece  of  steel — "  the  poisoned  scimitar 
of  the  King. " 

"  No,  I  remember — all.  And  to  let  you  live  is 
treason  against  mankind. " 

Murad  merely  laughed. 

The  great  bell  again  clanged — stroke  three. 

"I  would  kill  you  now — near  the  throne,"  con- 
tinued Balzar,  "  if  I  only  had  a  sword !  " 

"Take  mine!"  shouted  Worda  jumping  in 
through  the  secret  passage. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  second.  Balzar  grasj^ed 
the  sabre  and  was  already  pushing  up  his  sleeve, 
having  thrown  off  his  coat. 

Murad  made  a  gesture  to  his  L;"uards  not  to  fire. 
J^ut  they  stood  with  muskets  loaded.  No  sooner 
did  Hassan  hear  Worda's  voice  than,  forgetful  of 
all  his  bitterness,  he  held  out  his  arms,  exclaiming  : 

"My  daughter!" 

"  My  father!  "   she  cried  rushing  to  him. 

Again  the  bell  rolled  out  its  sound — stroke  four. 

276 


!l   f 


ir 


'■*"*!»&. 


Near  the  Throne 


3  them, 


-stroke 


swer  of 
thing  a 
icimitar 

live  is 


ee. 

,"  cori- 
ng   in 

grasped 
sleeve, 

to  fire, 
sooner 
tful  of 
iming : 

3  four. 


As  Worda  showed  Hassan  a  picture,  he  sobbed : 

"  Your  mother. " 

"  If  you  will  die,"  said  iMurad  coming  down  the 
steps  of  the  throne. 

"You  forget  my  famous  thrust,"  answered 
Balzar. 

"We  have  met  at  swords  before,"  replied 
Murad  frowning  and  glancing  at  his  hand. 

IVIarcel  added  : 

"  And  I  think  you  bear  a  mark  of  my  esteem." 

Again  that  dreadful  bell — stroke  five. 

"  If  you  are  not  a  coward,"  said  the  Egyptian, 
"  come  on  !  " 

This  was  the  moment  Captain  Balzar  had  been 
waiting  for.  It  was  an  unequal  contest;  his  only 
weapon  being  a  sabre,  but  it  was  his  own  from 
Aboukir — his  adversary  having  a  heavy  scimitar 
poisoned,  and  a  pistol  in  his  belt,  and  being  sur- 
rounded l^y  his  bodyguards  and  Mamelukes. 

"On  guard!"  Marcel  shouted  coveting  this 
chance  even  if  the  odds  were  a  hundred  to  one 
a^rainst  him  and  determined  that  if  he  could  make 
it  so  the  duel  would  be  to  the  death. 

They  crossed  swords,  the  sovereign  and  the 
prisoner,  the  Saracen  and  J.e  l^eau  Sabreur — and 
the  fight  began.  I'^)r  a  few  seconds  the  game  was 
to  Balzar,  his  thrusts  and  cuts  were  so  swift  and 
tellingly  aimed.  The  Egyptian  parried  them  skil- 
fully, with  the  ring  of  the  steel  clipi)ing  fire — yet 

^77 


y  ! 


r: 


fm 


iti'  , 
Oil'! 

Jll'i 


mi 


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t* 


Near  the  Throne 

he  retreated.  Me  liad  fought,  though  (cily  in 
practice,  in  that  same  room  before — and  knew  the 
tricks.  He  was  retreating  as  a  ruse  toward  the 
two  pillars.  Then  by  a  sudden  turn  he  had  his 
foe  down  on  his  knees  in  the  narrow  space. 


r 


"  Marcel !  "  cried  Madame  ISalzar  seeing  her 
son's  imminent  danger. 

With  studied  intent  Murad  made  a  furious  slash 
at  Balzar's  head.  There  was  a  lightning  upward 
movement  of  the  Chasseur's  blade.  Recover- 
ing, he  parried  the  blow,  but  the  heavy  scimitar 
descended  with  such  force  its  very  weight  broke 
a  sharp  piece  of  steel  from  the  hilt  of  Marcel's 

sabre,  which  cutting  across  the  flesh  of  his  arm 

278 


Near   the  Throne 

severed  a  snip  11  artery.  The  blood  spurted  out, 
but  the  physician  saw  at  once  it  was  an  ugly 
though  harmless  wound,  and  without  relaxing  his 
guard  an  instant  ripped  off  his  cravat  and  tied  it 
above  the  gash. 

"Have  you  had  enough,  Monsieur^"  shouted 
the  King. 

"  Not  yet,  Sire!"  replied  the  Capta  ,i  making 
a  feint. 

Murad  advanced  and  fell  into  the  trap.  In  a 
moment  more  the  Arabian  attempted  the  desired 
lunge — then  stood  disarmed  and  chagrined  with 
his  opponent's  foot  upon  his  scimitar. 

And  the  bell  m  the  dome  rang  out  -stroke  si.x. 

The  soldier  of  France  stooped  down,  picked  up 
the  poisoned  blade,  and  handing  his  mwu  weapon 
to  the  King,  shouted: 

"  Now  then,  again  !  " 

"Marcel,  stop!"  begged  his  mother  who  was 
standing  close  to  the  steps  of  the  throne. 

"I  will  kill  him,"  was  the  reply  she  received. 
"That's  a  French  prerogative." 

"No,  Monsieur,"  retorted  Murad,  "for  you  die 

first!" 

"  Come  on  !  " 

"On  guard  !  " 

"  You  must  not  kill  him  !  "  cried  Madame  Balzar. 

"Why?" 

"  Because — he  is — your  brother  !  " 

279 


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CHAPTER    VI 


THK    O  LEST  I  ON'    OF     A    KING 


-I'M 


V  J 


f.liV 


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in 


"The  proof!  "  demanded  Murad. 

"The  signet  ring!"  asserted  the  woman  hold- 
ing forth  her  hand. 

"What  more?" 

"  The  scar  !  "  she  added  baring  her  arm. 

And  the  great  bell  clanged  again — stroke  seven. 

At  this  revelation  Murad  and  Balzpr  were  as- 
tonished beyond  expression,  ]5oth  stared  at  the 
evidence  as  if  they  were  witnessing  a  miracle. 
Murad  took  her  hand  that  he  might  subject  the 
tokens  to  a  more  searching  scrutiny. 

To  Marcel  her  word  would  have  been  sufficient ; 
to  the  Arabian  these  vouchers  of  her  identity 
amounted  to  an  absolute  establishment :  they  were 
conclusive  and  irrefutable. 

"  Disarm  the  prisoner,"  commanded  Murad. 

Fuad  and  two  of  his  subordinates  did  as  they 
were  bidden  and  assisted  him  on  with  his  coat. 

To  Madame  Balzar  Murad  continued : 

"  I  pardon  you." 

"  And  Marcel  ?  "  she  asked  beseechingly. 

280 


M 


Near  the  Throne 

"Dies,"  he  answered  pointing  to  the  paper  on 

Osman's  table. 

"  Murad  !  "   she  cried  in  supplication. 
''  It  is  written,"  he  replied. 
Again  the  bell  rolled  out   its  dreadful  sound- 
stroke  eight. 

Noticing  VVorda  the  King  remarked  to  Fuad :  ^ 
"  Without  chains.  She  had  better  stand  alone." 
The  Mameluke  placed  her  in  the  corner  mdi- 
cated,  which  was  beyond  the  two  pillars  and  near 
the  entrance  to  the  secret  passage.  The  rest  of 
the  prisoners  were  at  the  same  side  of  the  room, 
but  in  fr'-.nt  and  to  the  left  of  this  mysterious 

panel. 

To  Worda  Murad  said  : 

"  The  slightest  movement  and  you  will  be  shot." 

The  bell  reverberated  again— stroke  nine. 

The  shots  heard  in  the  southeastern  quarter  of 
the  city  increased,  as  if  there  were  resistance  to 
the  massacre-or  a  conflict,  and  a  new  sound  was 
borne  in  on  the  winds  from  the  opposite  direction, 
It  was  very  faint  at  first  like  distant  grapeshot 

and  cannister. 

"Listen!"      said     TNlurad      imposing     silence. 

"What  is  that?"  „  , 

-  The  roil  of  the  drum, "  replied  Captain  Balzar. 

-•  Napoleon— bringing  your  message  !  " 

The  bell  seemed  to  ring  louder-stroke  ten. 
"  Napoleon?  "  repeated  the  usurper. 

281 


Near  the  Throne 


Ml 


if 


fliii 


M 


!'■  I 


I     !    .1 


"You  are  no  more  a  King!"  shouted  ?4arcel, 
as  the  sound  of  the  drums  drawing  nearer  assured 
him  of  themeaningof  the  fierce  rattle  of  musketry. 

"Napoleon!"  said  Tinette  clapping  her  hands 
and  speaking  to  the  group  around  her.  *'  I  know 
him,  I  do — we  were  boys  together !  " 

"You  are  wrong,"  returned  Murad,  after  listen- 
ing a  moment  to  distinguish  the  sounds.  "  It  is 
the  massacre — of  the  French  !  " 

The  bell  above  clanged  louder  still — stroke 
eleven. 

"He  is  coming,"  shouted  Balzar,  "the  Lion  of 
the  Desert !  Soon  he  will  speak  to  you  from  the 
mouth  of  a  cannon  !  " 

As  Marcel  listened  to  the  booming  of  the  little 
Corsican's  guns  he  almost  fancied  he  recognized 
the  voices  of  his  own  three  shining  fellows  cast 
from  the  bells  of  the  Augustine  Convent  at  Avig- 
non which  had  so  often  pealed  their  silvery  sweet 
ness  over  the  hills  to  the  ears  of  peasants  and 
popes.  15ut  his  cars  desired  nothing  more  sweet 
or  silvery  now  than  their  welcome  thunder. 

A  bugle  call  echoed  through  the  night. 

Noting  it  was  from  the  trumpeter  of  the 
Twentieth  Chasseurs  the  Captain  continued : 

"  Murad,  the  next  time  we  meet  will  be,"  paus- 
ing and  pointing  upward,  "  near  the  throne !  " 

Again  the  great  bell  in  the  dome  of  the  Citadel 

rang  out  to  all  the  city — stroke  twelve. 

282 


Near  the  Throne 

"  Twelve  !     Huh  !  "  laughed   Marcel  to  Tasche- 
reau  and  Carmier.      "  And  I'm  not  dead  yet !  " 

"Hassan,"  said  the  Khv^,    "there   is  a  reason 
why  your  daughter  Nazira  should  become  my  wife. 
Her  own  words  will 
be  proof.      Perhaps       ^ 
Halzar  would  like  to         *. 
listen  too." 

The  Captain 
turned  expectantly. 
He  noticed  that 
three  Mamelukes 
were  standing  just 
a  little  out  of  the 
line  and  immedi- 
ately in  front  of 
the  massive  doors, 
though  he  did  not 
observe  particu- 
larly that  the  space  between  them  and  W^orda 
was  clear. 

Looking  at  Nazira  and  pointing  to  W'orda  Murad 
resumed  with  a  frowning  inclination  of  the  head: 

"  Instead  of  your  father — you  understand?  " 

The  girl  shuddered,  for  she  understood  only  too 
well. 

"  Nazira,"  he  went  on,  "were  you  not  once  very 
favourably  inclined  toward  me?   ' 

"Yes." 

^^3 


Near  the  Throne 


i  ^ 


^li.^ 


•'■( 


N 


hi 


"1^ 


"  Much  more  than  that  ?  You  promised  to  go 
to  a  garden  with  me?  " 

"Yes." 

''To  love  me?" 

To  what  was  this  accursed  serpent  leading  her? 
But  fearing  for  her  sister,  she  answered : 

"Yes." 

"  To  give  yourself  wholly  to  me  ?  " 

"  No !  " 

"Is  it  so?" 

She  glanced  at  Worda  and  the  three  Mame- 
lukes and  was  unnerved  and  said  : 

'  Yes." 

"With  all  your  passion?  " 

"Yes.' 

"And  you  did  it  ?  " 

"  I  refuse  to ' 

"Remember,"  threatened  the  King,  for  from 
his  point  of  view  virtue  was  only  successful  temer- 
ity.     "  You  yielded?  " 

»i    T  " 

I  re 

"  Did  you  not?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Soon  you  will  become  a  mother?  " 

The  girl  was  so  frenzied  at  this  abominable 
falsehood  that  for  a  moment  she  weakened  and 
there  issued  from  her  parted  lips  a  sound  so  near 
to  silence  it  was  like  the  faint  sigh  of  the  last 

wave  upon  the  shore  of  the  farthest  sea.     And  she 

284 


Near   the  Throne 

scarcely  knew  that  to  his  iniquitous  question  she 
replied  again : 

"Yes." 

"  Am  I  not  the  father  of  your  child?  " 

"  How  can  you  dare  ?  " 
Is  it  true?" 

"  And  yet  God  doe?  not  strike  you  dead  ?  " 

"Answer!"  he  said  pointing  to  her  sister  and 
the  three  Mamelukes  in  his  endeavour  to  force  her 
affirmative  to  his  infamous  demand. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

To  all  this  Marcel  was  obliged  to  listen.  Glanc- 
ing toward  Worda  and  seeing  Nazira's  agonized 
looks  in  the  same  direction  he  walked  behind  the 
prisoners  as  if  anxious  to  hide  himself  from  sight, 
he  was  so  stricken  with  grief. 

Filled  with  shame  and  despair  Nazira  screamed 
out : 

"No— no!" 

So  engrossed  were  all  present  in  the  base 
Egyptian  and  his  vile  requests  that  no  one  noticed 
yet  the  faint  and  distant  martial  strains  of  the 
Marseillaise.  No  one,  except  Balzar  — nothing 
escaped  him.  But  he  was  determined  that  nine 
people  in  the  room  should  escape  tnat  nameless 
demon — that  viper. 

Murad's  black  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Nazira 
and  his  swarthy  arm  was  outstretched  toward 
Worda. 

•^85 


Near   the  Throne 


IJSk :' 


Hastily  giving  Hassan  the  incriminating  epistle 
that  Osman  had  stolen  from  him,  Marcel  said  : 

''This  letter  belongs  to  you." 

"Monsieur!"  said  the  merchant  in  confused 
gratitude. 

Then  glancing  at  the  panel  in  the  wall  l^alzar 
added  to  Carmier : 

"  If  he  should  miss  me !  " 

"Give  me  your  coat  and  hat,"  said  the  young 
beau,  whom  the  emergency  made  brave. 

They  exchanged.  This  was  the  work  of  two 
seconds. 

"Keep  your  back  to  Murad,"  said  l^alzar  in 
caution.  **  This  is  too  small,  but  I'll  get  rid  of  it 
outside." 

Carmier  obeyed  and  kept  the  other  prisoners 
close  together,  so  that  Marcel  might  be  unseen. 

Stooping  low  Balzar  crept  stealthily  to  the 
panel,  opened  it  slowly  and  slipped  into  the  secret 
passage. 

"  Ansvs^er  me  !  "  commanded  the  King  again. 

Nazira  remained  obdurate. 

To  the  three  Mamelukes  Muiad  said : 

"  Ready !  " 

They  obeyed  the  order. 

"  It's  a  lie  !  "  vowed  Nazira. 

"  I  will  give  you  one  chance  more." 

"  I  don't  want  it.  " 

"Remember,"  Murad  persisted,  pointing  again 

286 


Near  the  Throne 

to  Worda.      "  l^e  careful.      Am   I   not  the  father 

f't 

"  No  !  "  she  shrieked. 

"  Present.  " 

The  muskets  clicked. 

And  a  ringing  voice — the  voice  of  IMarcel  liilzar 
outside  the  gates  shouted  : 

"Fire!" 

This  word  was  followed  instantly  by  an  ex- 
plosion of  terrific  violence.  The  massive  gates 
were  blown  to  pieces  and  their  huge  iron  bars 
twisted  as  though  they  were  straws.  The  wall 
was  in  ruins.  The  pillars  were  wrecked,  and  in 
their  crash  hurled  down  and  extinguished  tlie 
candelabra.  There  was  an  immense  rent  in  the 
ceiling  and  the  roof  through  which  the  moonlight 
shone.  The  floor  of  the  corridor  was  torn  as  if 
by  an  earthquake,  and  from  its  depths  the  place 
was  lighted  by  the  red  glare  of  flames.  And  the 
throne  was  shattered.  Murad,  head  downward, 
was  lying  dead  on  the  crimsoned  steps ;  strewn 
near  him  were  the  lifeless  bodies  of  his  fated 
Mamelukes. 

There,  where  the  gates  had  been,  but  where 
flags  and  standards  were  flying  now  and  bands 
playing  at  the  head  of  the  army  of  I^-ance,  in  the 
very  flush  of  youth  and  victory — stood  Napoleon. 

Straight  in  the  gleam  of  the  moonlight  shining 

full  upon  his  white  shirt,  his  foot  upon  the  heart 

287 


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His  foot  upon  the  heart  of  the  fallen  King,  his  hand  uplifting  the 
avenging  sabre  of  Aboukir— stood  Balzar. 


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Near   the  Throne 


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1-) 


»)f  the  fallen  King,  his  hand  upliftinj;  the  aven 
ing  sabre  of  Aboukir — stood  ]hl/.ar. 

"The    trust!"     he  shouted,  holdiiiL,^    up    three 
lingers.      "  With  my  bullet !     'J^riumph  !  " 


"Dead!"  exclaimed  Xazira  looking  at  Munid, 
as  Marcel  hastened  to  her  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

With  a  piercing  shriek  of  anguish  W'oida  ran 
and  knelt  at  the  dead  ]'>gyptian's  side;  the  girl's 
soul  had  risen  now  and  conquered  m  spite  of 
all  this  man's  cruelty  and  treacher\'^ — and  with  a 
great  broken   sob  she  fell   upon  his  neck,  crying: 

"  Murad — Murad  !     He  was  my  king  !  " 


19 


2S9 


.11  ' 


» 


' 


'  Near  the  Throne 

Then  as  the  soldiers  of  the  future  I'Lmpcror 
sang  and  the  bands  poured  forth  the  martial 
strains  of  the  Marseillaise,  Captain  Iblzar  shouted 
above  the  echoing  music : 

"  Near  the  throne !  " 


mpcror 
iiartial 
houted 


